


In The Flames

by SuchaHag



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, More show canon with book elements, Post-season 7, Prophetic Visions, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 41,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchaHag/pseuds/SuchaHag
Summary: Post Season 7 headcanon. Sandor Clegane decides to see if he can really see visions in the flames.🔥





	1. Scream in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsDanafox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsDanafox/gifts).



> I started writing this in November. With the help of a fantastic beta, MrsDanaFox, it's time to start posting. The pace will generally be once a week as it is still a WIP. It's my first non-modern SanSan and I'm trying multiple POVs also.  
> I'll most likely be updating tags, ratings, and characters as I go along.  
> Thank you for your patience!

**Tyrion**

It was a scream of pain that pierced the light veil of sleep. Tyrion shifted in his bed. It was the cry of anguish reverberating through the walls and floors that jolted him awake. His feet hit the floor before his eyes were fully open. “Seven Hells, what is happening?” he reached his doors when he heard his name.

“Tyrion!!!”  It was the Hound. _The Hound!?_ Clegane never used Tyrion’s given name: imp, half-man, dwarf, fucking Lannister...never Tyrion. Something was wrong. He jerked the door open when he heard a second scream, “Snow!!” By this time Tyrion was running to Clegane’s small quarters on the ship. Just before he reached the door another bellow “Your Grace!!”. Tyrion slammed the door open. He was met with the sight he thought he'd never see. Clegane - The Fearless Hound, crouched in the corner, eyes wide with fear. He was holding out his hand to the door. Tyrion looked closer, his fingers were burned. Near the opposite wall was a small brazier with a fire glowing within. Tyrion was shocked. Clegane never went close enough to an open flame if he could help it, he even hated torches. Why was there a fire? The rooms were comfortable and a quick glance at the bed confirmed enough furs on it for when it got cold. Tyrion approached the large man, hands out.

“Clegane,” he said slowly, “are you alright?”  Wide eyes stared at him, no... _through_ him.

“No,” a low growl came forth “I had a vision, I need Snow here.” Clegane fell back against the wall heavily, his face twisted in anguish.

 

**Sandor**

What possessed him? The urge to start the fire was great, the urge to stare into it even greater. “Fucking Thoros,” he had grumbled, blaming the dead priest for the ludicrous thought that he could actually look into fire and see something. When he saw the dead marching in the fire at the abandoned hut he swore it was a trick, magic even - that Thoros used to get him to join their cause. But then he actually went North... North! Him. The beaten down, broken old dog trudging through that gods-forsaken white wasteland! He had questioned his sanity throughout the whole trip. Then he actually saw the mountain and the Walkers, that could not have been a trick. He _saw_ that. And having Thoros die for him, saving him from that flaming bear. Gods, Sandor would have drunk every drop of wine in Westeros to forget that sight. Flames and the undead, what the fuck was he doing up there? Saving the living; by being on the side of the living his fight became the same as Snow's, Tormund’s, Gendry’s, Thoros’, Beric’s, Jorah’s... the things that bring people together. It was all unreal. So he decided to try again, a nagging in his mind. His _heart_. It got louder and louder... what could it hurt? Build a small fire, take a look in the flames here in the comfort of his cabin.  

He couldn't sleep anyway, the rocking of the ship was driving him mad. The crew said the sea was calm, Sandor shuddered to think of what it would feel like during a storm. With each sway to the side, the boards creaked loudly, was water getting in?  He already hated fire, he could easily add another element to the list. The smell of the salt air was a pleasant surprise, the smell of the crew however, was not. The one thing he did like was the vastness - the darkness of the sea at night, the world stretched in inky blackness before him. His scars were blotted out when it was dark. Between the good and the bad of this leg of the journey, Sandor could not wait to be on land again. He should have drunk instead of gazing into the ruddy flames.

He stared at Tyrion trying to compose himself. He was shaking like a craven.  “Tyrion, I saw something. Two things, we need to go to them.’

“Them?” Tyrion was confused, “What in seven Hells are you saying?”

“I saw them.  Dondarrion. Tormund... Eastwatch is gone... blue flames destroyed it.” Sandor pushed his voice past the panic, past the lump in his throat  “I couldn't see them anymore.”

Tyrion swallowed, ”Eastwatch?”

 

Sandor nodded, “Aye, and...” just then, Snow and Daenerys burst into the room “Winterfell.”

  
  



	2. Visions in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visions explained.

**Tyrion**

Jon's eyes went wide with concern, as he stood at the door with Daenerys. “Winterfell?? What is happening here?”  Tyrion jerked his head towards the wall.  “Clegane had a vision. Two visions.”  Jon and Daenerys looked to the floor where The Hound was still pressed to the wall.

“You're hurt!” Daenerys proclaimed, pointing to his burnt fingers.

“Bugger my hand, we'll deal with that later.” He then shuddered and pointed to the bed, “Just get in here, I need to tell you what I saw.” They came in and sat down, not taking their eyes off Clegane’s face as the ship slowly rocked back and forth.  He repeated what he saw at Eastwatch. Jon's face darkened, his lips formed into a grim line.

“Blue flames?”  Daenerys whispered. Clegane nodded.

Tyrion stepped closer, not really knowing how to comfort Sandor, “And what of Winterfell?” he asked gently.  

Clegane looked at Jon, torment filling his eyes “The dead are marching on Winterfell.” he swallowed, “It is surrounded.”  Tyrion stared at Clegane, not in disbelief but in shocked awe. This man was his nephew's former shield, the Lannister’s former dog - that period seemed like a lifetime ago. Now he sees things in the flames like a Red Priest.  He would laugh at the irony if the current vision didn’t frighten him so much.

 

**Sandor**

Tyrion, Snow and Daenerys were staring at Sandor, horror-struck. Then the questions came at him in rapid succession:

“Is this happening now?”

“Did you see anyone else at Eastwatch?”

“Is the wall damaged... did it fall?”

“Did you see Arya, Bran or Sansa?”

 

His head snapped up at the last question. _Sansa? Sansa?! Stranger save him, Sansa is at Winterfell too?_ He started gasping for air, panic squeezing at his chest. _This is too much...too much!_  Daenerys's face began to blur. _Am I going to pass out?_ He fought to get himself together and scrubbed his face with his unburnt hand. He flinched when he felt dampness.   _Fuck - this is no time to cry!_   _What the hell is wrong with him?!_  He took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. “The vision of Eastwatch was crystal clear, I could have nearly smelt it, it was so real.” he started slowly, “Winterfell was fuzzy, very much like my vision that brought us north. I only saw Dondarrion and Tormund briefly before I saw collapse of white. I truly think the wall has fallen around Eastwatch.”  His voice hitched as he looked at Snow, “I only saw the dead walking toward Winterfell, I saw no one else”.

Daenerys and Snow looked at each other, then to Tyrion and Sandor. “We need to go to them, now.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of the travel and situations that some of these characters have experienced together, I have them referring to each each other in their minds than what they may call them our loud. I also believe they respect each other much more than they show outwardly at this point.  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Plans in the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing for a journey.

**Sandor**

“Now” actually turned into the first light after a full day. The boat was anchored as close as they could get it to land. Provisions had to be gathered and decisions made. Daenerys wanted to go to Eastwatch with Snow. Both Tyrion and Sandor laughed, “A Lannister and the Hound flying into Winterfell on the back of a dragon? Save yourself the trouble and cut our throats now.” Tyrion said to Daenerys. So it was settled, Sandor and Snow to Winterfell, Daenerys and Tyrion to Eastwatch. The ship would continue to Winter Harbor with Davos and the crew as planned.  A raven was dispatched immediately to Winterfell, maybe they can be forewarned no matter how cryptic the short note:

“Jon and the Hound to Winterfell. We have dragonglass with us, prepare weapons for new blades. Keep fires burning - there is a threat of the dead.”

Sandor was grateful for his new winter clothes and armor. He was the closest thing to happy while walking to the dragonpit outfitted as the rest of the group in winter clothes. It was a sense of belonging that he has not felt for a very long time. He was hoping to have more clothes made when they reached White Harbor, one set of even new clothes was not going to last long. He’ll have to wait. He gathered what he could and put it in a large sack. Snow had his items in another sack, a sort of crude set of saddlebags was fashioned to lay over Rhaegal. Another set of bags held dragonglass and basic supplies for the journey. The bags were balanced over Rhaegal’s back and Daenerys took him out for a test flight alone. Sandor studied his hands while he was waiting on the beach. The burns on his fingers were not bad at all, a salve and loose wrapping made a world of difference after he finally let someone look at it after the shock wore off. Daenerys returned a short time later and motioned to Sandor to come closer as she spoke softly in Rhaegal’s ear.

 _I can't believe I'm willingly getting on a dragon again_ , he chuckled darkly. Rhaegal sniffed him, growling low; after a moment he snorted softly and lowered his wings for Sandor to climb on. Rhaegal was smaller than Drogon and Sandor felt a little more secure between the spikes that jutted from his back. After a short flight with Daenerys was the _real_ test, Snow, and Sandor alone on Rhaegal with the packs. After giving some instruction to Snow, Daenerys headed back to the ship to go below deck, out of sight.  Sandor stood by Rhaegal’s wing as Snow approached talking evenly, looking the dragon in the eyes. Moments passed as man and beast looked at each other. Rhaegal bent his head slowly and bumped Snow gently. _Seven Hells, was the dragon purring?!_ Sander stared as the dragon all but nuzzled Snow.

“Clegane, come here a moment.”  Sandor's eyes met Snow's, wide with momentary hesitation before walking towards him. “Rhaegal wants a better look at you.”  Sandor stood next to Snow and was amazed the soft purring sound continued. Slowly Rhaegal bumped Sandor's scarred cheek and Sandor felt tingling at the bridge of his nose. _Fuck! I’m as fucking emotional as a woman_ , he chided himself as he looked into Rhaegal’s softened eyes, they reminded him of a burnished bronze shield. It was as if this dragon understood his past, understood his fears, understood _him._  He swallowed.  

“Shall we?” he said to Rhaegal. As if understanding, Rhaegal’s wing tilted down slightly to allow Snow and Sandor to climb into their spots.  After checking that the packs were secured under them, Rhaegal took flight. They circled the beach and the sea while dipping through the air. Sandor felt himself relax and a slight smile played on his lips. He can _do_ this, he could even _enjoy_ this. He laughed then, a loud throaty rasp, at the absurdity of it all. Snow looked behind him confused, but then a smile broke across his face. He got it. After Rhaegal landed it was time for supper and a night's rest. They were to leave just before light broke the next day. Daenerys estimated a day-and-a-half journey since this will be Rhaegal’s first attempt with cargo and their first long trip. They could not risk being tired. Daenerys and Tyrion left right after supper. Daenerys was confident Rhaegal was comfortable enough with Snow that her absence would not make a difference. Snow and Sandor stood on the beach watching as Drogon’s form grew smaller in the sky. _All because of my vision in the flames_. The trust everyone had in him was nearly overwhelming. Snow and Sandor checked over their supplies for what seemed to be the hundredth time, bid the crew a good night and farewell before retiring to their respective cabins for a fitful night's sleep.

  



	4. Flight in Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travel day and more bonding.

**Jon**

Jon woke to the sound of knocking. He quickly got up and cracked the door. “I'll be ready momentarily,” he told Clegane.  

Clegane nodded once and started to turn. “Oh, here,” he said, shoving an apple at Jon through the doorway. Jon smiled faintly and took the apple, shutting the door. Gruff, mean-tempered, impulsive, and a vocabulary to make a wildling blush - this was The Hound. But under it, Sandor Clegane was respectful, quiet, and… dare he thought, chuckling, _courteous_ in his own way. Jon had been weary when they all ventured beyond the wall to capture a wight but the trek was a bonding experience of sorts. Even though little was said, all the men knew they had each other's backs. Even that night huddled on the island - Clegane sat at the end of the group, taking the brunt of the elements and shielding Jon. He saved Tormund by pulling him back from being dragged under the ice by the attacking wights. He carried that damn wight the whole way - he was never asked and he never complained. Jon saw his limp afterwards, he knew that effort took its toll. His performance at Kings Landing in the Dragon Pit was executed without a hitch. Clegane was much smarter than he let on.

 _Clegane has more honor than many so-called “knights” I've met,_ Jon mused. He finished pulling on his boots and ate his apple, it was time to go.

 

**Sandor**

Rhaegal appeared on the beach soon after he and Snow arrived with their packs. That was a good sign. Davos had stopped him before leaving the boat with two long scarves. Sandor grunted his thanks. “Until we meet again Clegane!” Davos clapped them on the shoulder.

“Aye,” he replied, the camaraderie unfamiliar to him. Though hard to navigate, it made him feel...oh buggering hells he was getting soft!  Feelings! He was beginning to feel a spark of warmth. Not unlike those he began to feel for Septon Ray. _Except I'm not going to let you fucking lot die!_  He handed Snow the scarf after they secured their load and started to settle in their places between Rhaegal's spiny horns. Snow stared at him blankly. “Wrap it around your head and face to shield against the wind,” he indicated while winding the cloth around his head. Snow nodded and did the same. _Fucking Davos, always thinking of everything,_ he smirked to himself. They took off effortlessly, heading west. The day wore on as they soared through the sky, the views were otherworldly. Sandor was grateful for the scarf as the air was cold as they flew across the land. Snow motioned to the ground, it was time for Rhaegal to rest. Sandor was relieved, he needed to stretch his legs and piss something fierce. Rhaegal landed and they pulled off the packs. Soon after Rhaegal stretched, his scales glinting in the sun. He lied on his side and rubbed himself on the dirt. Dust billowed in the air while the dragon grunted and wriggled. His black and green neck was extended; the bronze scales of his belly briefly coming into view. After a walk around and finding relief, Sandor watched him for a moment. Rhaegal looked like a horse rolling in the paddock after a long ride.  That gave him an idea, he dug round in his bag, finding the soft brush he kept from when he had Stranger. “Sentimental fool,” he grumbled swallowing hard. Grooming Stranger always calmed him and his mount after a hard ride. Maybe rubbing down a dragon would be no different? _If Rhaegal doesn't blast my body into cinders first that is_. He stood in front of Rhaegal and held his hand out, holding the brush. “I can rub you down —”  he started, feeling stupid. Rhaegal stretched his head out to sniff the brush and those bronze shields held Sandor's eyes for a moment before turning and exposing his long neck within his reach.

**Jon**

Jon's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a bit at the sight after he came back to the clearing; Clegane was grooming Rhaegal, rubbing him down with long strokes like a horse. Rhaegal was on his side like a dog in front of a hearth. _Seven Hells, was the beast purring?_ Clegane will never cease to amaze him. After the grooming of Rhaegal's long nexk, they had a quick meal of hard cheese and bread.  It was time to pack up and leave. Jon studied the terrain and looked at the sun in the sky, “We may make it before nightfall.  I think Rhaegal can do it.” Clegane nodded, a smile barely twisting his features. Jon realized he hardly noticed the scars any more. _This climate agrees with him_ he thought as he climbed on top of Rhaegal’s back. They took their positions and after wrapping their scarves, were off once again.

 


	5. Raven in Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short transition chapter

**Sansa**

Sansa  and Arya stared at the parchment. It was hastily written and bound to the raven before it was completely dry. The words were a bit smudged, but legible. _Jon and The Hand are coming_. “Who is Daenerys’ Hand?” Sansa asked.

“I've heard it was Tyrion,” came the reply.

 _Tyrion was coming here?_ Sansa frowned slightly _._ Though he never mistreated her, it was a reunion she was not looking forward to.

Arya saw the missive about the weapons, “I'll work with the smith and have extra men prepare for the new blades.” They weren't sure when Jon and Tyrion were coming, but there was work to be done and Sansa felt there was no time to lose. She found several servants and had them make up Jon's room and fresh quarters befitting the Hand of the Queen just a few doors down from her own. Mattresses were refreshed, furniture wiped, hearths swept and tubs were brought up to be filled at a moment's notice. Cloths, linens, soap and oils sat on the tables along with place settings and room for food.

Sam and Bran saw to the fires. They understood Jon's note about the dead all too well. There were always bonfires burning and plenty of torches so flames could be at the ready immediately. They were eating supper in the Great Hall when the horn blew from the Watchtower. Sansa looked at Arya, eyes wide. “Now? So soon?” She pushed herself from the table at the same time as her sister. She gathered her skirts and ran to the battlement as fast as her legs could carry her but it still wasn't as fast as Ayra. Breathless she reached the wall by the Watchtower. The lookout pointed East. In the distance she saw a form in the sky.

“Fuck me,” Arya gasped “is that a dragon?!”

 


	6. Arrival in the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions

**Jon**  
There in the distance, silhouetted against the low sun, was Winterfell. His heart was light for a moment. He'll finally see Arya. For years he has wanted to hold her and know she was safe. _That time will come soon enough_. He swore he heard Clegane suck in a raspy breath, but didn't hear an exhale. He turned and looked at his companion. The scarf hid everything but his eyes. Eyes that held more emotions than Jon could put a name to: hope, apprehension, fear, sadness, excitement... Jon turned back shaking his head. _Fuck, Tormund was right, you can see right into Clegane’s very soul through his eyes._

 **Arya**  
“Get our horses,” Ayra called. “Now!” The guards began to saddle up also. “No, you stay here. There is a dragon out there. We’ll signal if we need you. This is Jon, there is nothing to fear.” Arya and Sansa mounted their horses quickly and rode through Winterfell's gates to wait for Jon and Tyrion to land, keeping a healthy distance.  
The great winged beast landed surprisingly graceful in the field. Two forms slid down to the ground and pulled large packs off its back. Then, without warning, the dragon took flight. Arya stared as the great wings pulled him further up into the sky. Jon rode a dragon. Jon… her thoughts were interrupted _That certainly is not Tyrion_ , she looked at the two forms ahead of her. She and Sansa spurred their horses and galloped towards their guests. As they got closer, Arya’s excitement grew. She was going to be seeing her brother and she could not wait to jump into his arms again.

 **Sansa**  
_I guess we were wrong, Tyrion is not the Hand of the Queen._ The man she saw next to Jon was much larger than Tyrion, in fact he was much larger than Jon himself. They were nearly covered head-to-toe to protect themselves from the elements and Sansa chided herself for not thinking to bring extra horses for them to ride back.

 **Sandor**  
_Oh Gods, they were coming closer._ He could tell immediately that it was Arya and Sansa galloping toward them. They would be there in seconds and he didn't know what to do. He kept his face covered and fussed with the packs. His heart was threatening to pound right through his chest and it was difficult to breathe. He hasn't felt this way since Blackwater and he knew he had to tamp down his growing panic. He saw Jon start to run towards them. Arya’s dismount could only be described as flight as she flew into Jon’s arms. Sandor could see even from where he squatted by the packs, that they hugged tightly.

 **Sansa**  
Sansa dismounted her horse and wiped away tears as she saw Jon and Arya's reunion. She turned toward the man squatting by the large sacks of supplies. There was a sudden knot in her stomach; nervousness enveloped her and she felt lightheaded. _Perhaps I rode too fast,_ trying to reason with herself as to why she felt this way. She shook off the feeling and approached the man smiling, “The raven sent said that Jon would be coming with The Hand, that must be you?”  
The man turned and Sansa stopped in her tracks. His face and head were covered, but the eyes that stared at her from the depths of the wraps were so familiar to her. One brow looked heavier than the other, or was that a shadow? It was like a ghost crossed her heart, just for a moment.  
“Hand?” the voiced rasped from under the scarf.  
Sansa froze, her hand flying up to her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes as the voice started to connect with memories from long ago. “Ser?” She nearly whispered, wondering... Hoping…? Did she hope?  
The man's head shook as he chuckled quietly. A hand came up and started to unwrap the scarf. “Still not a Ser, little bird.” The scarf came off and The Hound stood in front of her.

 **Sandor**  
There she was, in a dark grey dress and cloak with a braid of bright red hair that reflected the final rays from the setting sun. He held his breath. He wanted to run. He wanted to run away from her. He wanted to run into her arms. He wanted to hug her. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to beg her forgiveness. He just wanted.  
She stared at him with her hand clasped over her mouth. Within seconds he heard a choked sob, “I heard you were dead.”  
“Not yet.”  
She took a few steps toward him, she was nearly in arm's reach. He took one step toward her so they were. She took another small step and put her hands on his forearms.”I'm glad you're not,” she smiled up at him.

 **Arya**  
Arya finally let Jon out of her iron grasp and looked toward Sansa. Her gasp was loud when she realized who Jon's traveling companion was. Jon laughed at Arya, eyes dancing with mischief. “We have a lot to talk about.”  
Arya wiped her eyes and marched right up to the Hound’s chest and poked him where the heart was.  
“You're supposed to be dead.”  
“Not yet, She Wolf. Are you going to do the deed? Finish me off? Take me off your list?”  
“You've been off,” Arya retorted “and damned if I haven't missed you.” She hugged him quickly and stepped back. “I'm glad you're alive even though you are a shit.” At that, he laughed and smiled. Arya was shocked that the smile actually reached his eyes. _This Hound was tamed._

 **Jon**  
Arya had grown so much. He could not believe it. Soon after their arrival, a horse and a cart arrived. Jon was glad there were observant people watching from Winterfell. They loaded the supplies onto the cart and Clegane sat with the driver and Jon rode on the back of the horse. He felt he could ride anything these days after riding on the back of a dragon. Coming in through the gates, Jon was pleasantly surprised at how well everything looked. He knew he left Winterfell in good hands. He dismounted just in time to see Bran and Sam enter the courtyard. Sam walked quickly to Jon and hugged him tight. “Oh my brother, I am so happy to see you, it has been too long.” Jon hugged him back and returned the sentiment. Jon released Sam and ran to Bran in his chair.  
“Bran, oh Bran…. My little brother.” _Not so little anymore._ The hug was not fully returned, even though he felt a flutter by his shoulder.  
“Jon. We need to talk.” Bran replied.  
Sam run up then, shooting Bran a look. “Much has happened, we fear that there has been a disturbance at Eastwatch. Bran was able to see.”  
“Bran has visions?” he looked at Clegane “So has the Hound. Daenerys and Tyrion are at Eastwatch now because of what he saw.”  
“I am the three eyed raven,” Bran said flatly.  
Sam interjected again, “We need to all talk, very soon.”  
Sansa appeared at Jon's side. “I am sure you both are hungry, we should gather in the Great Hall together soon to talk everything out and you can eat.”  
Jon wanted to go to his room and clean up and he was quite certain that Clegane wanted to do it too. “First I would love hot water to be brought to my room. The same for you, Clegane?” The man nodded in response. Both men knew they were filthy and they probably smelled like a combination of ship crew and dragon. “Sansa, I assume I am in my old quarters? Where are Clegane’s chambers?  
Sansa replied, “He is down the hall from us, as we read in the note that it was The Hand, not the Hound.”  
“That is perfectly fine, he deserves chambers fit for ‘The Hand of the Queen,’ Jon smiled at the shocked look on Clegane's face. “Don't be modest Clegane, take the room.”  
“I'll show you where it is,” Sansa placed her hand on Clegane's elbow.

 


	7. In the Chambers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor gets brought to his quarters.

**Sandor**

Sansa was directing him towards his new room. What a strange turn of events; years ago he would escort her from her chambers at Kings Landing to whatever torment Joffrey had planned for her. _Should he apologize? What could he say? What should he call her? Seven Hells._ Before he was worried about Ayra running him through with her ‘Needle’. Now he was nervous about this little bird at his elbow.  He kept looking ahead, trying to remember where he was going, their footsteps the only sound in the hallway. Finally they approached the door.

“Here we are, your chambers...mmmm…” she faltered.  

“Just call me Clegane, Sandor would work too.” He cringed, how dare he ask the Lady of Winterfell to be so familiar with him. He has lost his mind.

He turned toward his still silent escort. She was smiling slightly.  “And you may call me Lady Sansa. But when we are like this, Little Bird would work too.” He stared, feeling his mouth drop.

“Are you insane girl…?” he started to growl.

“I am a woman! The Lady of Winterfell! Do not call me girl,” she snapped as she pushed her way into his chambers, leaving him to follow. He was about to argue, snap and growl at her as he had done years before. He was ready to hide behind that stone wall, just as he always does, but the sight of his chambers stopped him short.

The area was massive. It looked as though there were three rooms adjoined. A comfortable sitting area with a fireplace, padded chairs, a large table, a bookcase and decorative tapestries on the wall. A large bed chamber with a bed that looked like he could actually fit on it, a smaller fireplace, open storage trunks, table and chair and even a dressing screen. There was a large tub that looked very recently filled with steaming water. “This is too much,” he shook his head as he walked into the solar with a large window, desk and several chairs.  Even more books lined the walls. “Too much…”

“It is not too much, _Sandor._ **”** He started and looked down at the laughing eyes next to him.

He grunted, “The Little Bird still doesn't realize the horrible things I've done.” He allowed a tight smile.

“I've heard things, of your travels since King’s Landing, and if I could- I’d give you the biggest chambers within Winterfell.” He stared at her in shock as she continued. “I am taking too much of your time, please freshen up and come to the Great Hall. There is much to discuss.”

“Aye,” he nodded once and watched as she moved back into the hallway.

“ _Much_ to discuss,” she repeated and then she was gone. He stood there motionless, staring at the empty doorway until a servant appeared, dragging his pack into the room.

“There anything else you need m’Lord?”

“No,” he said quietly, not even correcting his title. The servant left, shutting the door behind him. Sandor started shucking his clothes as he walked into his bedchamber.

The water was still quite warm, bordering on hot. Sandor sunk down as low as he could go, feeling the aches of his travels lessen. There were oils and soap. Skipping the oils, he used the soap to clean himself top to bottom. He nearly felt sorry for the poor sod that had to remove the filthy water later. It was not a bad as the water he left behind after bathing for the trip to show Cersei the Wight...that was nearly a mud puddle when he left it. He chuckled, _two baths in less than a month? How highborn of me._  Upon drying, he took his tunic and trousers and beat them against the wall. He then brushed them off as well as he could, as well as his boots.  He needed some new clothes, badly. The wildling-style clothes were nothing more than rags. The clothes he has been wearing was all he had. He pulled on the trousers, foregoing smallclothes and the tunic followed. The boots fit but he could use a better pair of those too. He noticed a comb by the oils and soap and dragged it through his linen dried hair, arranging it, as always, to cover this face. He grumbled as he ran his fingers through his unruly beard, _I see there is no glass to see myself in this chamber_. Good thing, he made it a point to avoid them. He noticed that even with a low fire, his quarters were very comfortable. He remembered King Robert saying years ago as they travelled North that Winterfell was built over a hot spring and that it was naturally heated. Maybe one day he would explore. One day, if they didn't have the dead attacking them soon. He frowned and left to find his way to the Great Hall.

 


	8. Catching Up in the Great Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, everyone is together.

**Sansa**

Sansa sat at one of the long tables in the Great Hall with Sam, Arya, Gilly and Little Sam.  _ Hopefully Bran will arrive soon. _ There were platters of food and pitchers of wine and ale. She was sure Sandor and Jon were starving.  _ Sandor. _ She was being quite forward and it seemed to bother him. _ He could piss in front of Ayra but he gets skittish when _ _ I  _ _ say ‘Little Bird’, _ she scoffs to herself.  _ I don't think he knows quite what happened to me. I may be Lady Sansa, but I'm not a simpering babe anymore. I am a Stark, he is going to see the wolf I have become. Arya is not the only “Stark Bitch”, _ she quickly coughed to cover a laugh and took a drink of wine.

**Jon**

Jon arrived to the Great Hall only moments before Clegane. Even though there were only a few people sitting at the tables, it still looked warm and inviting. The last of the sun was coming through the high windows and a fire blazed in the giant fireplace. Sansa, Arya, Sam, Gilly, and Little Sam were at the front table. It felt like home to him. There were two empty place settings along with platters of food and pitchers, most likely filled with wine. A few remaining Knights of the Vale sat at another table, talking quietly. This wasn't a formal gathering, the bannermen were at their own keeps for the moment. Jon knew this quiet would not last long, he hoped to enjoy it.

He sat at the empty seat next to Arya, he put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed lightly. He couldn't resist leaning over slightly and ruffling her hair just as he did years ago. _I'm so glad to be home with my family,_ he mused. Clegane came in soon after, trying to hide his limp. He sat next to Jon, quickly filling his plate and his cup. “Starving,” he mumbled. Jon agreed, he was quite hungry himself and started eating. He glanced over at Sansa and she was staring at Clegane from her seat across the table. The man was oblivious. Clegane filled him in during their travels about what happened between him and the sisters.  He didn’t tell him that Sansa already told him of _her_ version of the same events.  Though the narratives were a bit different, one thing was apparent - Sansa and Sandor thought highly of each other.

“Where is Bran?” Jon asked.

“He should be coming shortly,” Sam replied. “I'm surprised he's not here already.”

“Before he comes, can someone explain  _ exactly _ what the Three-Eyed Raven is?” Jon looked pointedly at Sam.

Sam swallowed and glanced at Sansa. She nodded, frowning slightly. “He has visions. He can see the past and he can see what's happening now through the eyes of the birds. He saw a very disturbing vision soon before we received the raven that you were coming. We sent a raven straight away, but I don't think it ever reached you. It was about Eastwatch.” Jon and Clegane whipped their heads and stared at Sam. 

“Eastwatch? Clegane had a vision about Eastwatch. He said it was burning in blue flames,” Jon proclaimed.

Bran’s voice filled the room “The Night King now has a wight dragon. It was his blue flames that destroyed the Wall at Eastwatch”

“Fuck,” Clegane slammed his cup down. “Fuck!” 

Jon looked over at him, “I know…” his voice trailed off, dismayed at the news.

Bran rolled to the table. “Clegane can see into the future through the flames. Like a prophet.” He looked over to him, “Your Eastwatch vision was sharp?”

Clegane nodded, “Aye. My other vision was very fuzzy.”

“That is because it is further in the future,” Bran smiled slightly. “I was certain the dead were marching South to Dragonstone and King’s Landing.”

“Not all of them,” Clegane growled.

“You and I will talk soon, Hound.” Bran stared forward, expressionless.

Arya was staring at Clegane, “You had better not be one of those fire worshippers, Hound.”

Clegane stared back, “Are you fucking having a jape, girl? Never! I didn’t ask to see things in the ruddy flames, nor do I care to!” He growled, returning to his plate, angrily shoveling his food into his mouth.

Sansa continued to stare, mouth slightly open until she caught herself and shut it with a slight shake of her head.

 

The platters of food began to empty as the discussions carried on. Jon told them of the travellers that should be arriving in a fortnight. They talked a bit about their trek beyond the Wall and journey to King's Landing.

Ayra was gaping at Jon by that point, “Gendry was with you?”

“Yes, with any luck he’ll make it here soon.”

Ayra looked at Clegane then, smiling wickedly, “It’s going to be a great reunion.” Clegane rolled his eyes and tried to suppress a slight smile.

Sansa was quiet and then looked at Clegane, shocked, “YOU rode a dragon? TWICE?!”

Ayra snorted, “I would have paid good silver to see your face.”

Clegane’s grumble almost sounded like a laugh, “I would choose a dragon over one of those dead fuckers every time.” 

Sansa and Ayra chortled shaking their heads.

Bran turned to Jon “Jon, we need to talk. We know -”

“YES, we need to talk... privately.” Sam interrupted, shooting Bran a look. 

“Anytime is good now, I'm fed and rested.” Jon smiled at them, “We can go to my chambers.” 

Bran and Sam nodded. 

 

**Sansa**

She watched as Bran, Sam and Jon left the hall. Gilly left soon after to tend to little Sam,

she, Arya and Sandor remained. 

“How are you liking your chambers?” She asked Sandor with a smile.

“Too big, I do not deserve them.” 

“Don't be an ass, Hound,” Arya said laughing. “This is the North and - believe it or not - the Starks have found favor with you.”

Sandor snorted, “Favor?! For kidnapping you?” He turned to Sansa, “And threatening you? You two are mad.”

Sansa bristled. “Whatever your intentions, Sandor...you ended up protecting us. Not in a traditional sense; not exactly “honorable” either, but you protected us all the same. And dare I say,  _ cared _ in your strange and gruff way.”

Sandor snorted softly, hiding his face behind a curtain of hair.

Arya jumped in, “Going beyond the Wall with Jon? Fighting with him, protecting him, going back to King’s Landing? Sorry, Sandor - you are stuck with us.”

Sansa and Arya smiled at him widely until he looked up and slowly returned their smile.

“Aye, then you are stuck with me also.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone sorting their visions this chapter, a little crazy - but bear with me. ;)


	9. Thoughts in Private

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is everyone thinking now?

**Sansa**

Arya’s proclamation to Sandor seemed to have broken the tension and eased his mind. They were able to talk a bit more freely, just the three of them, in the Great Hall. Although the conversation was still general. Many details were left out of what happened to all of them, especially to Sansa after Blackwater. One day she would tell the whole story. She already knew of all of the travels between Sandor and Arya from Arya herself. After parting ways with Arya, she found herself walking with him through the corridors towards the tower where their chambers were.

“What I can't get over is the warmth within these walls, the hot springs Winterfell is over must be massive.” He told her, sweeping his arm in front of them.

“Oh, they are!” Sansa replied,  “Perhaps I can show you one day, they are quite impressive. There are areas for bathing too, the water doesn’t cool.” They reached his chambers first. She stopped and turned to him before he went in, “Do you truly think your chambers are too large? We can move you, I really do want you to be comfortable here.” She smiled and just stopped herself from putting her hand on his arm.

“It's hard for me to think I am deserving of them.” He started slowly, “but I do think I can get used to a space that I can call my own. Do you know what I really need though?” Sansa felt the flutter in her chest again for some reason.

“No, what is it you need?” She questioned quietly, holding her breath.

“Some new clothes, I only have what I arrived in, along with my armor.” He plucked at his tunic.

Sansa let out a laugh with a whoosh, “That can easily be remedied, my Lord.” She smiled.

“Not a Lord, not a Ser, just me,” he smiled slightly, looking at her for a moment and then went into his room, shutting the door softly behind him.

She returned to her room and went to her trunks and opened them. She considered the contents for a while and then pulled out a few bolts of cloth that she had. She brought them to the table next to her embroidery basket. She returned to a trunk sat there for a moment, leaned in and started moving the contents around until she found what she was looking for; an old, blood spattered, used-to-be white, cloak. She sat on her bed with it in her arms. How long did she think he was dead? In a thousand years she thought she would never see him again or even hear of him again and here he is at Winterfell with her and her family ready to fight alongside them. _I'm never letting him go again,_ she vowed to herself, brushing away the tears that sprang to her eyes.

 

**Sandor**

Sandor laid in his bed staring at the ceiling marveling at the turn of events. Arya doesn't hate him. Sansa doesn't hate him. They want him here! He could do this - he could stay, he could fight for the Starks. For the first time in a long time he felt like he was home, he felt like he was needed, and he felt like he was wanted. He marveled at the fact that the last time he was here, he was Joffrey's shield. Now it was being run by the surviving children.  He shook his head, laughing, _I DID ride a Godsdamn dragon, didn’t I?_  Tomorrow he will make his vow. Tomorrow he will join the Starks.  And with that thought on his mind he drifted off to sleep.

 

**Arya**

Arya sat at her table, polishing Needle. _Jon was home! Gendry was alive!_ She smiled to herself.   _I wonder if he has thought of me at all during this time?_ So much has happened to all of them, everything was so different.   _The Hound was alive!_ She shook her head smiling, _he is going to be barking mad that I told Sansa about his confessions_ . She knew he exaggerated to try to anger her, but the feelings he harboured for Sansa - those were real. The sadness that Sansa displayed when he heard he was dead? That was real too. Arya shuddered a bit, _maybe I should remind Sansa of how he smelled during their travels?_ She stifled a laugh. _Of course, Gendry saw me at my worst. We all have seen each other at low points in our lives._ She put Needle down and twisted the cloth she held in her hands.  This was the calm before a dark, winter storm arrived. She was going to make the most of the time she had.  Hopefully her friends and siblings will too.

 

**Jon**

Jon stared at Bran and Sam. _Not Ned’s son? His nephew? Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen were his parents? Aegon Targaryen?_ That name was foreign to him, _he was a Stark! Targaryen!  Oh_ [ _Daenerys_ ](http://gameofthrones.wikia.com/wiki/Daenerys_Targaryen) _!_ He groaned. He reached for a cup of wine, his hands shaking.  “Who knows?” he asked quietly.

“Only us, Jon,” Sam reassured him.

“I need time. This...this information-” Jon started.

“You are the heir to the Iron Throne,” Bran stared at him.

“Bran! Please! We talked about this!” Sam gasped at Bran.

Bran blinked slowly, focusing his eyes on Jon, “I won’t tell anyone, but you need to work through this quickly. Winter _is_ here.”

Jon took a deep breath and stood. He walked to stand behind Bran and put his hands on his shoulders.  Bran stiffened and then relaxed, Jon smiled sadly, “Thank you brother. I am weary and need to think.”

Sam quickly got up, “We’ll be going now.”  He smiled at Jon, “Jon, if you need to talk - I am here for you.”  

Jon hugged Sam tightly, “I thank you too, brother.”  Sam left, pushing Bran out the door.

Jon stripped down quickly and got under his furs. _What in the seven hells do I do now?_ He anguished, staring at the ceiling. [ Daenerys ](http://gameofthrones.wikia.com/wiki/Daenerys_Targaryen) will not take this news well, her life has been dedicated to sitting on the Iron Throne. No one has been able to get in her way and he was certain that a newly revealed nephew was not going to make a difference. _Nephew! Daenerys was his Aunt_ , he shuddered to himself. _Would their newly consummated relationship make any difference on how she viewed him now? Would he be seen as family? Would he be seen as a threat to the throne? Would he still be Jon? He really had no desire to sit on the Iron Throne, maybe if he told her that.... Yes, she was meant to be the queen, she was meant to rule the Seven Kingdoms, not him. All he wanted to do was protect the realm from the threat of the North._  He sighed as he turned to the wall, he knew he had to go back to her, the sooner the better.


	10. Boldness in the Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa takes a risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, Happy Unicorn Day!

**Sansa**

Early the next morning, Sansa stood outside Sandor’s chamber door and hesitated. Would he be angry? It was early but he  _ did _ ask for clothes. She warred back and forth with herself as she glanced at the two maids standing behind her. One had a tray of food, the other had a stack of clothes in her arms. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered as she straightened her back and softly rapped on the door. She leaned in and listened. She thought she heard movement. Soon she heard footsteps coming towards the door accompanied by swearing. She smiled,  _ what a grouch _ . The bolt slid back with a loud bang that caused the maids to jump behind her. Wood creaked as the door swung open. Soon the door frame was filled with a frowning hound, “What!?” His eyes met hers and quickly softened after a beat as he added, ”my lady?”

“Sorry to disturb you so early, Clegane,” she smiled, glancing at the girls behind her. “We have some items for you.” He grunted and pushed the door open further as he stepped aside. The three came in and a maid quickly put the tray down on the table and looked at Sansa, she nodded. The maid turned and left the room. The other maid stood, holding the pile in her arms. “Could you come a little closer, please?” Sansa said to Sandor, “I want to see if these are even close to appropriate for you.”  He sighed and stood in front of her. She pulled a tunic off the top of the pile and held it up close to him, “Hm this will do until we get some items made. Should not take long.” She smiled and looked up. The smile turned to a gasp in seconds, “Sandor! You are bleeding!”

“Buggering hells, I'm all right. Just a scratch.”

“What happened?” she demanded.

“I was trying to trim my beard a little to make it even. I was a careless, it will be fine.”

She went to the wash basin and grabbed a linen rag and dampened the corner. She brought it to him and was just about to touch it to the blood when he snatched it from her hands.

“It will be fine, let me take care of it,” he grumbled as he held it to the cut on the scarred side of his face.

She backed down immediately and nodded to him before turning to the additional clothes. There were two tunics, a pair of trousers and heavy boots.. The trousers looked much too short but he could make do with the tunics and the boots fit perfectly. She reached into the small supply basket she was carrying and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill; she scratched a few notes on it and then looked at Sandor. “We have quite a few seamstresses and even a tailor at Winterfell. You'll have new clothes suitable for winter in no time. But we do need measurements, would you mind if we took them now or would you like me to send up a tailor–”

“Go ahead a measure now, no need to waste any more time.”

“Alright, first stand with your arms out,” she quickly worked measuring his arms and his sides. He looked away as she measured his neck. _ Maybe I should have let the tailor come, _

she realized as she circled her arms around him to measure his waist and hips. She did it quickly, feeling the heat on her cheeks. He was looking up, staring at the cross beams of the ceiling with his jaw clenched. “Almost done,” she muttered. She measured his outer legs quickly and held her breath as she began to measure the inseam. Now her face was flaming hot and there was no way she could even look up at him. 

She heard a cough that may have covered a small laugh, “Are you  _ quite _ done, Lady Sansa?”

She wrote the last numbers down on parchment and handed them to the remaining maid. “Bring this to the seamstresses, they are waiting. They know what materials to use.”

She watched as the maid left the room before turning to Sandor. She swallowed and smiled, “Shall we eat?”

 

**Sandor**

_ Seven Hells! She comes in here, puts her arms and hands all over me... then smiles and asks if I want something to eat? Winterfell is going to be the death of me.  _ He nodded dumbly to her as he sat down. They ate quietly for a few moments when he noticed that she was studying his face. 

“I said it was fine,” he growled. 

“We have groom…” her voice trailed off. 

He barked out a laugh, “Do you honestly think I had grooms tending to me since I've been old enough to grow a beard?” He shook his head. “I'm quite capable of tending to my own needs.”

“So why are you bleeding?” she shot back.

“It's been awhile, the scarred side is a little more unruly and I only have a small, cracked mirror. I also think my blades are dull.”  _ This conversation is too domestic, why am I not screaming at her? _

“I could get you a sharpening stone if you don't have one. Finding a small mirror should not be a problem either.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, “my lady.”  _ She smiles at every courtesy. _  As they ate, he noticed her stealing glances at him.  _ She is up to something, I feel it.  _ Instead of demanding her thoughts, he decided to let whatever was in her head play out.

They finished eating and Sansa got up, brushed off her dress and looked at him, “Let's go into the solar, the light is good in there this time of day.” He looked at her trying to read her features, but her face was blank. He opened his mouth to argue, but she looked at him pointedly and started walking toward the solar. He watched as she paused at the table where the wash basin was and picked up a small pair of scissors and the linen he put there. She looked over her shoulder, “Let's go.”

His heart was beating faster than usual. He pushed down the trepidation he started to feel.  _ Are you seriously afraid of a woman?  _ he growled to himself as he got up from the table and followed her. Sansa had a chair next to the window and she pointed to it. He went and sat quietly.

“Don't move,” she looked at the scissors and frowned, “These will never do.” She sighed. She went to her basket and pulled out a small pair of golden scissors. “Embroidery scissors.” She smiled. “Again, don't move. I’ll do this now so you don’t have to wait.”

He closed his eyes, she was so close. He could feel her breath on his cheek and he could smell a faint trace of lemons and lavender on her hands.  _ Can she hear my heart? It's louder than thundering hooves. _

She snipped here and there, looked and then snipped a little more. She picked up a small comb and brushed it through his beard on the unscarred side of his face, and then snipped a few more times. She went to his other side, he reached up and grabbed her wrist. “No, you don't have to.”

“I do Sandor, it's uneven and I see some whiskers starting to curl around in your scars. It could become painful after a while. Just let me do this.” She stopped and looked at him, “I'm used to this and I've missed your face, whether you want to believe it or not.”

He stared at her in shock not knowing what to say, but he turned slightly to present the side of his face to her and she smiled.  _ Gods be good, she smiled.  _ She snipped a few more times, working the delicate scissors gently to snip stray hairs. 

“I think I did pretty well,” she said handing him the tiny cracked mirror.

He looked at himself in awe. “Aye, you did,” and he allowed himself to smile back at her.

 

**Arya**

Arya sat with Jon, Sam, Gilly, and Bran, breaking their fast in the Great Hall. Jon was telling more tales of his time north of the wall with Gendry and the Hound. 

“So Gendry RAN to get help?!” she asked, surprised.

“If he didn't run as fast as he did we would not be here, Daenerys arrived just in time.”

“And The Hound protected you?” 

“He also carried the wight over his shoulder while running.” Jon answered. Arya was shocked. 

Jon looked at her and laughed, “He also threw rocks at them, he’s still far from noble.”

She laughed, agreeing with her brother, “Jon, do you know for true that Gendry is coming North?” 

“As far as I know he is, he'd be safer up here than in King's Landing. If Cersei or anyone loyal to the Lannisters found him now, he would be in great danger. I still can't believe he was hiding in plain sight this whole time on the Street of Steel.” 

“Hiding in plain sight?” Arya was puzzled.

“Arya, why do you think he was targeted? Why do you think the red woman wanted him? He's the bastard son of King Robert, he is a Baratheon.”

Arya stared at Jon, speechless. She was going to say she was shocked, but deep down it all made sense. Deep, deep down, she knew.

“Would the Dragon Queen hurt him?”

“I don't think so, but that is why I sent him out with two riders when we made a brief stop at Maidenpool. He is meeting Brienne and her traveling party at the Inn at the Crossroads.”

“So he is coming here?” she tried to ask casually.

“He is coming here.”

 

**Jon**

He knew the look. Ayra was trying to contain her excitement that Gendry was due to arrive soon. He shook his head slightly and tried to sort out the irony of the situation. Here he was, a bastard in everyone’s eyes and he is a Targaryen with a claim to the throne. His sisters, true high born ladies of the North, are smitten with a bastard from Flea Bottom and a low born dog from the Westerlands.  _ Titles mean nothing, even blood means nothing, the heart knows true knights, true heroes and true kings. _ At that he looked at Sam and smiled, his true and dearest friend. “Sam, I want everyone at Winterfell to be educated about the white walkers and the threat from the North - everyone from the children to the oldest crone -from the peasants to the guards.” He paused and looked at Arya, “Once the dragon glass weapons are made, you and Clegane can start training. Hopefully, Brienne will be here by then.”

Bran spoke up, “I want Clegane to accompany me in the Godswood until then.”

“Clegane with you? Why?”

“He needs to use his gift. With him, we can see everything.”

Jon nodded, “I agree, though the final decision is Clegane’s.”

“Clegane’s what?” A voice come from the door as the very man they were speaking about strode through with Sansa mere steps behind him.

Bran repeated his request. Jon looked at Clegane, “What do you think?”

“As long as it doesn't take away from training, I'll do it.”

Sansa came to the table and sat down next to Arya. Clegane, however, remained standing looking at Jon. Jon looked back, “Is there anything else?”

For the first time ever, Clegane looked unsure of himself. His hand rested on the pommel of the sword tied loosely around his waist. He sighed heavily and drew the sword putting its point into the ground in front of Jon. Soon the man painfully kneeled behind it. “I pledge myself the house Stark. I pledge myself to all members of the Stark family.” Behind him, Jon heard the startled gasps of Arya and Sansa. He glanced at Bran and saw a serene smile and the slightest nod in agreement. Jon stood, Arya and Sansa stood also. “Please stand. Lord Clegane, Winterfell Master at Arms.”

“I don't want your buggering title…”

“My Lord, I know titles do not make the man. You are more honorable than many Lords I know, you are more honorable than many Knights I know, you are more honorable than some Kings I know. You do not _ need  _ a title but I  _ want  _ you to have a title. You are to help train every man, woman, and child how to use Dragonglass to defeat the threat from the north. You are also to be available as Lady Sansa's guard whenever she is required of your service.” 

At that Clegane stood, nodded to Jon and sheathed his sword. 

Jon didn't notice that his eating companions were rendered speechless at his missive. He turned and laughed at them,  _ you'll catch flies if your mouths stay open any longer _ . 

Clegane sat and soon everyone was making plans for the smithing of blades, training and keep fortification. Jon instructed  Sam to send ravens to the bannerman to inform them of Lord Clegane’s title, and to send their Masters at Arms to be trained within a fortnight using the dragonglass. He also wanted them cautioned of the impending threat and instructed to be vigilant.

Just as Sam was about to leave, Maester Wolkan walked in with a scroll, “Raven from Eastwatch, m’ Lord."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sandor isn't going to make a Knights vow, he's going to get to the point like a man of few words does.


	11. Change in Command

**Jon**

Jon stared at the message brought to him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. _Well_ _here's my excuse to leave, I have been summoned._ “Eastwatch has been destroyed, only Tormund survived. I am to meet them at White Harbour.” Jon looked at Bran and Sandor, “The blue flames were from Viserion. Bran and Sandor saw it true.” Bran looked grim, but not surprised. Sandor looked angry, “Only Tormund? Dondarrian was killed?”

“Crushed under the watchtower,” Jon replied. 

“I told him to be careful now that his priest was gone.” Sandor grumbled, looking down,“What now?”

“The dead move South, send ravens to Ned Umber, Alys Karstark and the Hornwoods. They are in their path. All of their stores need to be emptied and everyone has to be moved out of harm's way. There are hundreds of thousands there's no way we can fight them all.” 

Sam stared, “Jon...there has to be an–”

“Send the ravens, Sam. It's the only way,” Jon looked crestfallen. “Maybe they can return, but for now they have to leave. Send additional ravens to the bannerman, everyone has to do their share and be prepared. Anyone that refuses to leave will not be rescued.”

“I can't let you leave,” Jon turned the speaker.

**Arya**

_ We just found each other, there is no way in hell I am letting him leave.  _ “You can't leave. You are King of the North. You can't abandon your family.” 

Jon took her hand, “Arya, you know as well as I, I need to do this.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Then I'm going with you.” 

“No.”

_ How dare he! I am not a child! _  “You can't make me stay.”

“Arya. You are better suited to serve here. Sansa and Bran will need you more than I will,” he smiled softly at her, “and between you and Clegane, the people of Winterfell will be prepared for anything.” Arya heard a snort of pride come from The Hound.  

_ He's right. I have no experience with the dead.  _ She willed her eyes to not fill with tears as she looked at Jon and nodded. 

 

**Sansa**

Sansa stared at Jon, holding her breath.  _ Can I do this again? How long will Jon be gone this time? _ “Jon…” she started.

“Sansa, you are the Lady of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North.” He turned, “Sam, make sure to indicate this when you send the ravens. Sansa is in charge with her team of trusted advisors while I am gone.”

Sansa shifted in her seat, “Jon, I want to talk to you before you leave. I need some assurances in regards to some matters.” Jon nodded before he got up to talk to a few dependable men to serve as escorts to White Harbour. Sansa sighed and looked at Arya, “The sisters are in charge again.”

Ayra smiled and then Sansa heard a soft bark of laughter, “Seven hells, what have I gotten into?”  

Sansa turned to him, “Be careful, Lord Clegane, I could make you a wet nurse instead.” He scowled at her and drank from his cup. She and Ayra smiled at each other. 

Afterwards, Sansa followed Jon to his chambers. “Sam has a long day ahead, each bannermen is going to need several ravens  with all of the news coming from us.” 

“Sam is an excellent writer, he'll be able to convey all the messages in perfect form I am sure,” Jon said, as he started gathering his possessions. “I can't believe I have to leave again but I know I leave Winterfell in good hands.”

“Jon I need your assurances. I need a proclamation from you. I want to make sure that I have the support of all of the bannermen that I am Lady Sansa. Not the former Lannister, not the former Bolton - that I have always been Lady Sansa - and I will never be sold, traded or used as a marital bargaining chip again.” 

“I will draw something up. I will draw something up for Arya too. You will never be used as leverage again. Not if I have anything to do with it.” He paused. “I'll take  copies to be signed by Queen Daenerys also to be sent back to you, in case you need it.”

“Here anything from you would be respected as the King of the North, but I appreciate any other backup.”  

_ If she was ever going to marry again, it would be for love. Marriage for “duty” nearly killed her. All she needed was for someone to love her, and she knew scant few that could possibly love her for who she was, not for what she could give them _ .

**Sandor**

“Sandor, I wish for you to accompany me to the Godswood now,” Bran looked at him, no _ through  _ him. 

“Aye, let me find some furs and we can leave.” Sandor wasn't thrilled at the prospect of sitting outside next to a tree staring into flames, but he understood what Bran wanted. He also understood that what he saw could be the key to success and their future. Hearing about Dondarrion’s death tickled the back of his mind. _ I declared for the Starks, I am not a Brother Without a bleeding Banner but now this buggering Lord of Light has given me power.  _ **_Was_ ** _ it the Lord of Light that gave me this power? Am I a buggering Red Priest? What am I? Who am I?  _ Perhaps when they got to the Weirwood tree he could ask Bran because Bran certainly did not go on and on about the Lord of Light yet he had a gif t. There was no use in yammering on about it, it was time to use it to their advantage. He entered his chambers and pulled on one of the tunics Sansa brought him, put the heavier leather jerkin over it, not bothering with his mail.  The new heavier boots and worn trousers will do until he had appropriate clothes. He recalled what Sansa said to the maid before she sent her away with the measurements about them knowing the right fabric to use for him. _ How would she know? Why so much thought about an old dog like me?  _ He scrubbed his hand over his face. He could accept Jon the Lord of Winterfell just fine, why was he having such a hard time with accepting “Lady Sansa”? He still felt that he failed her, he could have done so much more, his harshness toward her to try to make her stronger only terrified that girl.  _ Woman _ . He remembered those blue eyes staring at him, usually filled with tears. How many times was it  _ him _ that put them there? Now she is Wardeness of the North, with no help from him. Now she is welcoming him with smiles and overseeing his comfort from his room to his clothes.  _ Maybe Arya told her about the Red Wedding, how I saved her. Maybe how I fought for her _ , or may- he sucked in a breath.  _ Did Arya tell her what I said when I was trying to provoke her? No, she would tell Jon to behead me on the spot. _ He took a deep breath and pulled the largest fur off his bed. No sense in trying to figure out women, he would spend his life in his chambers if he tried to do that.  


	12. Sight in the godswood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Bran look for answers, but Bran's question is not what Sandor expects. A young wolf gives advice to a bird.

**Sandor**

He pushed Bran along the well-worn path toward the giant weirwood tree. The lake next to it was steaming,  _ must be one of those hot springs _ . Bran was silent the whole time. As they neared the tree, Sandor was surprised to see a ring of stones with a fire already burning.  

“I sent someone ahead to prepare a fire for you,” Bran said. 

“Thanks,” Sandor said slowly, “where do you want to be?”

Bran pointed next to the tree, “and you can sit with your back against the trunk while you look into the flames. I want to see if being near the weirwood tree makes any difference for you.” 

Sandor sighed,  _ I am just a dog. A worthless scarred, sack of bones. _ “Do not put too much stock in me, Bran.”

For the first time Bran looked at him and smiled, “I have more stock in you than you have in yourself. You'll see.”

Sandor stared at Bran  for a moment before settling down on the ground, putting his back against the tree, the fur wrapped over his shoulders. He let his eyes relax and began to stare into the flames. After a few moments, the shape of Winterfell came into view and soon he saw the wights marching towards it. He tried not to panic and relaxed more into the vision, trying to count how many were coming.  _ Thousands… fuck me, thousands. _ His chest started to feel tight and the vision faded. He blinked his eyes a few times and looked towards Bran. “Buggering hells!” He jumped up and lurched toward the boy in his chair. 

Bran's irises came back into view quickly, “Are you all right, Sandor?”

“Fuck me, you could have warned me…”

Bran smiled slightly, “What did you see?”

“The same, Winterfell. The dead marching on Winterfell but this time I tried to count how many, I would estimate thousands. Not the great number I saw marching past the arrowhead  though.” 

“How clear was this vision?” 

“Still quite fuzzy,” Sandor said, actually feeling some relief.

“Good. Now, I want you to try something,” Bran said matter-of-factly, “Put your hand on the weirwood tree and say to yourself that you want to see beyond what you've already seen.”

“You want me to try to go further into the future?”

“Exactly.”

Sandor sighed and sat down again, this time putting his hand on the smooth bark of the tree.  _ I want to see beyond what I saw, _ and then he looked again into the flames. The flames felt hotter this time and Sandor struggled to relax his gaze. His chest tightened again in a panic and he shook his head, blinking his eyes. “Nothing.” 

“It may take practice.”

“It may come easier if I actually wanted to play with fire and see into the future,” he growled, frustrated at himself for being craven.

“It will come to you.” 

“And what were you looking at?” Sandor tried to shift the subject.

Bran turned his eyes and looked straight at Sandor, “How long have you loved my sister?”

Sandor felt the bottom of his stomach drop out as he stared at Bran. “And don't deny it,  _ Lord _ Clegane.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at Bran again. He knew he couldn't lie, he knew the creepy bugger probably saw everything he needed to see. “I can't remember exactly when I fell in love with Sansa.”

 

**Sansa**

She was coming up the path to the weirwood tree when she saw them sitting close together, talking. She was nearly in their line of sight when she heard Sandor admit that he loved her. She clapped her hand over her mouth and spun quickly to press her back against another tree hiding herself from view.  _ Love! Love?! _ It's been years. Although he was a constant thread in the back of her mind through all of her tribulations, she found it hard to believe he even regarded her at all. She stood there for a while wondering what she was going to do now. She was supposed to be going down to tell them that Jon was going to be leaving this afternoon and wanted to meet with everyone. Instead, she started to walk back towards Winterfell staying out of sight, she'll send Arya with the message instead. She had some things to finish up.  

She found Arya soon enough in the courtyard, “Arya could you please tell Sandor and Bran to meet us all in the Great Hall early this afternoon? I have a pressing matter to attend to.”

Arya arced an eyebrow, “Must be important if you are sending  _ me _ to fetch the Hound.”

“Arya……”

“It's a jape but, word of advice, stop nancing about. Believe me,” she laughed, “he hates that!”

“Arya, please,” Sansa warned, eye filling with frustrated tears.

Arya looked at Sansa seriously, “I don't know what is running through that head of yours right now but I will tell you this. Don't use him for a means to your end. Don't use him to protect yourself from others. He deserves more than that.” Arya looked at Sansa’s shocked expression, “I'll go to the godswood now and pass along the message.” With that she walked away.

Sansa made her way to the sewing room now troubled by Arya’s words.  _ I am not using him. _ She growled to herself. She needed to talk to him because if the visions he and Bran had  _ were  _ true, this period of relative calm was coming to an end. She was tired of regrets and she was tired of ‘what ifs.’.

 

**Jon**

He sat at the high table looking at the small crowd gathered and the Great Hall. There wasn't  time to call the bannermen before he left, he hoped the ravens that were sent would suffice. The men and women of Winterfell plus the remaining Knights of the Vale all knew Sansa was a competent Wardeness of the North. They also knew of the threat beyond the wall, everyone seemed to be prepared for that since before he left the first time.  He looked down the table at Bran sitting at the end with the slightest of smiles on his lips and looking at no one in particular; Arya who looked agitated and most likely wanted to get back out into the courtyard and fight somebody; Sandor who was trying to look disinterested and at the same time not look at anyone else at the table; and Sansa sitting right next to him with waves of worry washing over her so much that even he could feel it. He patted her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It will be just like last time, you are a great leader and you won't have Littlefinger to interfere and cause discourse.”

“You're right,” she smiled, “and soon Brienne, Pod and Gendry will be here to to help.”

“Gendry?” Sandor barked out a laugh, “I hope he stays to fight this time and doesn't whinge about the Red Woman fucking him.”

Arya’s head whipped around to look, “What?!” 

“This is not the time,” Jon warned low enough for only the table to hear.  _ Damn that Clegane and his big mouth, does the man have any control?” _

He turned towards Sam and gave him a pleading look,  _ please be the voice of reason at this table while I'm gone Samwell.  _ Sam smiled as though he understood him and then resumed talking quietly to Gilly.

Jon spent the next hour talking to everyone, giving instructions, drawing up paperwork and preparing to make his leave. Later that afternoon, he and a small party left Winterfell. He dared not look back because he feared it would be the last time he saw his home.


	13. A Round In The Courtyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya throws down a challenge.

**Ayra**

Arya, Sandor and Sansa stood on the battlements watching the small party disappear into the east. She refused to cry, but she was angry. Needing a release, she turned to the Hound and said to him in a low growl, “It's time to fight, I'll see you in the courtyard.”

He gave a slight nod. It was one thing she appreciated about him, he knew exactly why she wanted to fight and he was not going to question or belittle her about it. 

“You and Sandor? Now?” Sansa looked aghast. Ayra rolled her eyes and walked off. 

She made her way down to the courtyard, she could hear his heavy footsteps behind her at a distance. She went to the practice area and waited. It was cleared of snow and the ground was hard with packed dirt. When he neared, she pulled Needle out of its sheath and started twirling it in her hands. 

“Live steel? As you wish.” He draw his sword and loosened up with a few practice swings.  They squared off looking at each other. She noticed a small crowd starting to gather and then met his eyes. She smiled at him, “I've been waiting for this for a long time, Hound.”

“Aye. So have I, Wolf-Girl,” he swung his sword at her and she raised Needle to block the blow. She was able to deflect, but the hit sent shockwaves down her arm. She set her jaw and started to fight. She spun and went for his flank but it was swatted away like a fly. She stepped just out of the way from his sword, grazing her arm. Each swing and jab was blocked or avoided on both sides. Steel whistled through the air and clashed together like thunder. She knew he had brute strength and some skill, but she was taken aback at how much.  _ Had he trained with Jon up North? Had he been holding back in the Riverlands?  _ Needle sliced like a razor and ripped his trousers above the knee and he growled. Soon her legs were swept out from under her. She quickly flipped and landed on her feet just as his sword nearly took some hair off her head. They battled on and Ayra noticed the silence of the people gathered around them. They matched each other blow for blow. The flat ends of their blades making brief contact here and there on each of their bodies, they were both going to be bruised come tomorrow. 

At one point, the swords tangled at the hilts and both swords flew from their  hands into the dirt several yards away. Ayra took the opportunity to launch herself at him. He realized at the last minute and planted his feet. Soon they were grappling and trying to get over to the swords. The dry dirt was being kicked up and there was a brown cloud forming over the courtyard. 

Soon a female voice bellowed, “ENOUGH!!”

Sandor's hands dropped instantly, and soon Arya’s followed. They quickly got to their feet. 

 

**Sandor**

He knew she'd be tough. Brienne warned him as much but he'd be a fool to say he didn't expect her to physically go after him once the weapons disappeared. She was like a shadowcat and even with his strength, he couldn't match her speed. When he heard the wail from Sansa to stop, he complied right away. Sansa was the commander here. All of them had something to prove, especially her. Thankfully Arya stopped too. They stood, brushing the dirt off themselves, as the dust settled. Soon he could see Sansa standing before them, she was not pleased. Her eyes were blazing with anger as she looked at him and her sister. “Are you both  _ quite _ done?”  

He glanced at Arya, “A winner has not been declared, my lady.” 

He could have sworn he saw a flicker of a smile ghost over Sansa’s lips, “Lord Clegane, Lady Arya - I declare a draw. If our men could learn to fight even as half as well as you both, our home will be under the best of protection.” 

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd that gathered.

“Thank you, my lady,’ he rasped. He turned to the crowd, “Tomorrow morning, I expect you all here for training. If you have a practice sword you are comfortable with, bring it.”

The crowd dispersed and Sansa walked away alongside Sam. Sandor felt a nudge on his arm and he looked down to see the handle of his sword. “Thanks. Good fight.”

“Good fight.” Arya and Sandor  grinned at each other and went their separate ways. 

 

**Sansa**

Sansa hurried to her chambers to collect herself. She could have sworn her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She remembered when Arya fought Brienne, how it had scared her. This fight was terrifying, by comparison. Using live steel and going after each other with such intensity, it was a miracle they both weren't seriously injured. She was relieved when the swords fell from their hands and she was horrified all over again when they ended up rolling in the dirt, trading blows like savages.  She was thankful they stopped when she commanded it. She also appreciated the crowds admiration of both fighters. She went into her solar and noticed the stack of clothing on her desk.  _ These were made in the nick of time,  _ she smiled to herself. 

She gathered the bundle in her arms and made her way to Sandor's chambers.  

After a few moments of knocking she realized he was not there. She started to turn when she saw Sam walking towards her room. “Sam,” she called “have you seen Lord Clegane?”

He hurried over to her and took the bundle from her arms, “He was filthy and sore so I sent him to hot spring baths under our quarters. I hope you don't mind m'lady, Jon indicated to me last night that they could be used by myself and Lord Clegane instead of the servant baths under the kitchens.” 

“Of course, Sam. In fact I was going to extend the same permissions to you since there are only seven of us living here at the moment.”

“You mean…” 

“Yes Sam, Gilly and little Sam can use them too.”

“Thank you m’lady, you are so kind.” 

“Sam, you are like a brother to Jon. That means you, Gilly and little Sam are a family to me also.”

Sam smiled at her and looked at the bundle in his arms, “I can put these in Lord Clegane’s room.”

“No, that's alright. I can leave them, I need to write a brief message for him regarding tomorrow while I am at it. So it's no problem at all.” 

“Allow me to open the door for you and to carry them for you at least.”

“Thank you,” She followed him into the chambers and went straight to Sandor's solar with the intent of leaving a note. “Oh Sam? Have you seen Ayra?” 

”She retired to her room, instructing the maids to bring hot water and salts. She will be at supper later. I will see you too then, Lady Sansa.”

She nodded to him as he left.  She resumed looking for a piece of parchment.  She glanced at the pile of new clothes Sam left on Sandor’s trunk in the other room. She stilled that flutter in her stomach and went over to them, pulled a few pieces out, left his chambers and made her way to the hot springs below.


	14. Bravery in the Baths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa goes to Sandor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't leave you hanging, so I am posting this one much sooner.

**Sandor**

He was nearly sleeping in the hot water, his head tilted back on the stones surrounding the hot spring. He only lit one torch in the room, its orange shadows danced on the damp walls. 

The aches of injuries old and new, loosened and started to melt away. He had to remember to ask Sam about the salts to draw out even more aches for next time. He sighed and let out a low chuckle,  _ Lord Clegane is going to be the cleanest dog in Westeros.  _ He glanced at the pile of dusty clothes,  _ well...after he washes his clothes and has the rip in his trousers mended _ . He sat up and poked at the cut on his leg, a scratch really, but damn that “Needle” was sharp. He stretched his arms over his head and rotated his shoulders a bit before leaning his head back again. He felt the relaxation washing over him again when he heard a creak and light footsteps. That certainly was not Sam, and he highly doubted Gilly would dare come down here alone. He assumed it was Arya and was thankful the lights were low. He watched the entrance to the baths to make sure he announced his presence as soon as she entered. He wasn't sure if he could fight her again, and he wasn't in the mood to be drowned in a hot spring. He laughed darkly while reaching for the cake of soap and the linen rag that was next to the bottle of oil he grabbed from his room. He was busy lathering the cloth when he saw flames from a torch start to enter the room. When he saw the torch carrier - he stared, dumbfounded.

 

**Sansa**

When she entered the room she could see the look of shock registering on his face as he put a rag and soap down on the stones. In the dim light she kept walking towards him even though the voice in her head that was screaming at her from the moment she left his chambers got louder.  _ You are mad! What in the seven Hells do you think you're doing, are you completely daft?  _ Yet, her feet kept being propelled forward. Her mouth was dry by this point, but she knew she had to say something. “Sam told me you would be down here. Some of your clothes were completed, so I thought you would need them,” she regarded the pile of his dusty clothes. “I can take these to have them cleaned and mended?” 

“Don't touch those clothes, they are probably flea ridden.” She looked at him quickly to protest and noticed that he was quietly laughing. “In all seriousness my lady, I hardly think it is appropriate for you to be down here while a man is bathing.”

“I only brought you clothes my Lord, you are submerged up to your chin and I can barely see a few lengths in front of my face.” Her feet were still bringing her closer to where he sat in the water. She kept her eyes fixed on the wall behind him, she didn’t want him to accuse her of staring. 

“Suit yourself, but Sam knows I came down here alone so if anybody thinks I did anything improper…”

“No one will think that Sandor, only seven people are allowed down here. One has to be carried and can probably see what is happening anyway, one is a child that won't come down here without his mother and father...no one is bothered about propriety at this point. I am the twice married Lady of Winterfell. The only one that seems to have an issue is  _ you _ . You traveled across half the countryside with my younger sister, I doubt you thought  _ that _ was inappropriate.” She knew the words were cruel the moment she said them, “My apologies, Sandor...I didn't mean to infer that-” 

“I never laid a hand on your sister,” he said angrily, “besides knocking her out at that damn wedding and slapping her after stabbing me, that is but I never touched or looked at her…” his arms were now waving in the air.  He was mad. 

She rushed over to him and stood at the edge of the pool, “Sandor. I'm sorry I didn't mean - I know you didn't. Arya said you never harmed her or made her feel unsafe, even when she wanted to kill you.” 

He put his hands back down in the water, “I was an unthinking idiot. Dragging her across Westeros, looking for a ransom. Then thinking I could get her to safety. I had to by that point,” he looked at her then, voice dropping, “I had failed you so badly, I thought maybe I could save your sister...”

“Stop. Just stop!” Sansa dropped to her knees, “Everyone has regrets. You think you failed me. You did your best to protect me, a fledgling bird in a pit of vipers. Poisoned snakes that would have killed you without blinking if any one suspected, and where would that have left me? Dead as well.” Sandor started to protest, a growl erupting from his throat. “No, Sandor. No more barking or growling. You are Lord Clegane now. The Hound does not frighten me, hasn't for a long time. For months I regretted not leaving with you but I know now that if I did, we would have been hunted. If we did make it? Probably would have been killed at the wedding alongside my mother and brother.  So stop. You are here now. You can still protect me  _ now _ .”

He looked down for beat and turned his head, “Aye. I will never leave you again, until of course you want to send me away.”

“Never,” she smiled at him and her heart warmed to see him finally smile back at her.

“No more regrets. Promise?”

“Promise,” he reached for the oil, ready to change the subject, “now Lady Sansa  _ why _ would I pour oil in my hair?”

She laughed, “First you wash your hair with the soap, then after you dunk your head a few times to get the suds out, the oil gets massaged in and rinsed out.”

“Pffft what a bother. Give me a river to wash or road dust to rub on my head when my hair is slick and heavy. Never stopped me before.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, “Even peasants have soap, Sandor. You've gone so long without even basic items that you don't think you deserve them.”  She got up and went to a box by the wall and produced a wide tooth comb. “Do you know what this is?” She japed.

A snort of laughter met her ears, “You are a funny one.”

“Using your fingers to rip tangles out of wet hair will leave you bald at the rate you are going, just hold still.” She kneeled behind him and started working the comb through his damp hair. She felt him tense immediately. “No chirping, my lord.” 

He let out his breath in a huff, “I'm not going to win, am I?”

“No, so just let me do this.” One knot disappeared and she worked on the other ones. Soon the comb glided through his hair with ease, “it just takes patience. Now - wash yourself and your hair while I check the torches for oil. I won't look.” 

He grunted, he knew it was pointless to argue.  As she walked away inspecting the torches that hung unlit around the spring, she could hear splashing and some light cursing and muttering.

 

**Sandor**

What was happening?  _ She _ told  _ him _ to stop chirping? Now he was washing like a child because she told him too? His barking made her smile, his growls made her roll her eyes. He held his breath and went under water.  _ How long can I stay under here? _ he mused. He came back up and looked around. He didn't see her.  _ Maybe she left  _ and damn if he didn't feel a slight pang. He leaned back to stare at the stones in the ceiling again. A quiet sigh escaped his lips and soon saw a shadow from the corner of his eye. 

“Alright, let's get to it.” She re-appeared with that bloody comb and knelt behind him, “I'll make this quick. Your fingers probably look like sun dried fruit by now.’ 

He pulled his hand out of the water and laughed, “Aye, that they do.” He felt the comb move through his hair again, easier this time.

“Pardon me for asking. I could have sworn your hair was darker in King's Landing…”

“Kings Landing was filthy. I was also inside with Joffrey most of the time.”

“The sun did this?” She lifted a few strands, causing a shiver to travel down his back.

He nodded, “and bathing more than once a month.”

“Ew...Sandor.” Even behind him, he could sense she wrinkled her nose. He laughed then. A real laugh. He heard the bottle open and before he knew it, her hands were buried in his hair. 

_ Seven hells - the fuck is she doing? _ He quickly thanked every God that was ever followed for the low light. Any more light  and she would have most certainly seen his twitching manhood just below the surface of the water. Then he smelled it.

“Lavender?! My hair is going to smell like flowers?!” He nearly shouted, “I train fighting men!” 

She pulled her hands away and pushed on his shoulders, “Rinse.” He did as he was told and when he broke the surface again and leaned back, her lips were right by his unburned ear, “after your hair dries, someone will have be this close to smell it. Are any of your men going to be  _ this _ close?” He sucked in a breath as she continued, “Besides, I like the smell of lavender.” She stood and went back to the box and put the comb away. She grabbed some drying linens and brought them to the edge. “See you at supper, Lord Clegane.” She took her torch and left.

He was done for, he knew it. 


	15. Enjoyment in the Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family that plays together, stays together. Sometimes you just need a damn break.

**Arya**

Supper was later than usual so they sat at a lower table with platters of food in between them. _What a family we are._ Bran sat at the end, quietly talking to Sam. Gilly sat across from Sam with little Sam next to her. Arya was in between Sam and Sandor. Sansa's seat across from Sandor was empty. “Where is Sansa?” she asked Sandor.

“How the in seven hells am I supposed to know?” he snapped.

“Aren't you her guard?” she retorted.

“Fuck me…” he grumbled and started to get up. Just then Sansa hurried in, “My pardons. I was working on a project and lost track of time.” She sat quickly and smiled at everyone. Soon her eye settled on the grouch across from her. “It looks like the new clothes fit.” She smiled. Ayra’s eyes widened in shock as he smiled back at her sister, “Aye, they do,” he rasped.  

Sam leaned forward and looked around her, “Lord Clegane, did the hot springs help after your fight with Arya?”

“That they did, perfect for after getting knocked in the dirt,” he barked out a laugh.

“We can have a rematch any time, Hound,” she said, pointing her spoon at him.

“I think we should concentrate our efforts elsewhere,” he answered, as he pushed the spoon away. He turned his head back to talk to Sansa when Ayra noticed it.  

“Does anyone smell lavender?”

“What? Lavender? No!” _Why in seven hells was he glaring at Sansa now?_

Sansa lifted her hand slightly, “I used some lavender oil today. It seems it is lingering longer than I thought.” Ayra was confused, _why did it seem Sansa was answering Clegane? I asked the question. Those two have gone soft in the head._

“The smiths are making great progress on the dragonglass weapons, Sansa,” she stated.

Sansa looked pleased, “That is good. Sam have there been any ravens?”

“Not yet, m’lady, I expect we should be expecting them starting tomorrow.”

“I propose we spend some pleasant time together tonight, because who knows when we will have the time again.” She looked a bit sad, but Ayra knew Sansa was right.

“What do you propose?”

 

**Sansa**

Sansa  was shocked when Arya answered her. She was sure that she would be the one to protest the loudest.  

“Does anyone know how to play Cyvasse? I found it in my chambers from when Tyrion brought it from King's Landing for father.” She was met with silence. This was not going how she planned. “I also learned of a game from Margaery some time ago, I could teach you.” She saw some nodding heads. Sandor looked like he was going to bolt any moment. “Even you, Sandor.” He tried to glare at her, but failed.

While they had their dessert she explained the game. They had to divide into two groups and guess either a name of a person, a book or song. Though noises could be made, no talking was allowed. Everyone agreed to at least try.  

When they finished eating they moved to the area in front of the fireplace. Sam and Sandor dragged a few chairs over. Sansa, Sandor and Bran were one group while Sam, Ayra and Gilly made up the other. Little Sam sat near Gilly quietly playing with some wooden toys she found for him.

Ayra's group was first, they talked a bit and then took their places. Sam stood and swept his hand from his head to his feet. “A person,” said Bran. Sam nodded. Gilly stood and pretended to rock a baby.

“The Mother!” Sansa jumped up.

“Right!” Ayra nodded, smiling.

“The Mother isn't a person...” Sandor started.

“Well, she takes the shape of one. I guessed correctly anyway, we are winning,” she answered.

They got closer and Bran smiled, “I have the perfect person.”

Sansa stood and indicated that theirs was a person also. Sandor pretended to hammer and Sansa ran in circles.

“Very funny,” Ayra laughed, “that has to be Gendry.” She gave Sandor a look.

“It was Bran that thought of it, not me.” Sandor almost looked jovial.

The next turn was harder and Sansa was impressed that it was Sandor that finally got the answer. Sansa suspected he knew it was “Dance of the Dragons” sooner, but was enjoying watching Sam and Arya dance about while pretending to breathe fire.

**Sandor**

He didn't want to admit it, he was enjoying himself. _Is this something all families do?_ He certainly didn't remember having fun with his family. He did remember a time long ago with Marcella and Tommen playing together, especially with Tyrion. Maybe even further back when Cersei would attempt to play with Joffrey, before Robert would scream that she was making him soft. What the fuck did he know? The warm feeling that took root in his chest was starting to spread. _Feelings! What do I know of feelings? Of love?_ “It’s never too late…” Septon Ray’s voice echoed in his head. _No, it’s never too late,_ he looked up and caught Sansa smiling at him.  

“I have a good one,” he leaned in to tell her and Bran his idea.

Bran actually laughed and looked at the other group, “Ready?” He made like he was singing.

“A song!” Gilly smiled.

Sansa pretended to hold a mirror and played with her hair while Sandor made fists at the top of his head and growled. Silence from the other team. Sansa twirled and batted her eyes. He got on his knees and pawed at the ground briefly before growling again. Silence. _Buggering hells they are getting me back for Dance of the Dragons?_ Sansa stood looking as sweet and innocent as possible, otherwise she was at a loss as to what to do. Frustrated at the lack of guesses from the others, he got up and went to her. He growled again and gently picked up a section of her hair. Her eyes widened a bit as he looked at her, her eyes looked dark. _Was she angry?_ He took her hair and put it in his mouth, turned and looked at the other group's shocked faces, letting out a muffled growl. Soon Ayra was doubled over with laughter, “I knew it! ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair!’”  Soon he felt the hair slide out of his mouth and he looked at Sansa - her eyes were still wide. He gave her a tentative smile.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t guess,” Sansa said to her laughing opponents, starting to laugh herself. Her voice sounded funny. _Did the fire get hotter? This room is very warm._

“Sorry to end the game, but it’s time Little Sam went to bed,” Sam said.

“That was fun, we must do it again,” Gilly added as the three of them left the hall.

“Arya, can you take me to my room? I wanted to talk to you about the dragonglass.”

“I can do that.” Arya went to Bran’s chair, “ready to go now?” He nodded to her and they bade Sansa and Sandor good night. Sandor put the chairs back as Sansa shoveled ashes over the fire to calm it.

“Escort me to my quarters, my lord?”

“As you wish, my lady,” he replied as he offered his arm.

She took it readily, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, “Lordship suits you,” she teased.

As they walked, he had to ask, “Do you know how to play Cyvasse?”

“In theory, I think I do. Do you?”

“Yes.”

She stopped and looked at him, “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“It’s a two-person game, Sansa,” he answered, eyes searching her face.

“Do you want to play now? With me?” he saw her swallow.

“Aye, let’s go,” he felt her grip tighten as they walked toward her chambers.

 


	16. "Cyvasse" in Private

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moves are made and it's not a Cyvasse board.

**Sansa**

She didn’t remember getting to her chamber door. Her mind was a jumble and her heart was beating so fast she was sure that he must have felt the vibration on his arm. _ We are just playing a game,  _ she struggled with the door,  _ and telling him how I feel.  _ Her hands were NOT working. Sandor reached over and pushed the door open. “Thank you,” her voice come out low, like she hadn't used it for days. She walked in and was relieved to see wine on the table in her sitting area. She poured herself a cup and looked at Sandor. “Would you like some? It's Arbor Gold.”

He made a face, “One cup.” She poured another and handed it to him. She tried to just take a sip despite wanting to drink it all at once . Her mouth felt so dry all of a sudden. Sandor took his wine and went to the table where the Cyvasse board was and sat down. She soon followed. 

He picked up an onyx piece and studied it. “These are very well made,” he remarked as he put it on the polished orange and green board. He picked up the black horse next, absentmindedly rubbing it between his fingers.

“Tyrion gifted it to my father when he first visited, years ago.”

“Aye, Tyrion had a fondness for the game. He is the one that taught me.”

Sansa looked up in surprise, “And me as well, during…” she let her voice trail off.

His hand gripped the next piece, a black dragon, tightly, “Your marriage?” he grumbled. 

She made to reach for his hand, her fingers hovering over his, “It was a farce, our marriage. Never a marriage in true.”

“I heard rumors.”

“When I fled King's Landing, I was a maid.” She let her fingers brush the top of his hand while reaching for another piece. She saw him shiver slightly. “Not that it matters anymore.” 

He looked at her, “If  _ I _ can't have regrets –”

She felt a tug of a smile, “So true. I should not either. It's never too late to make happy memories.” Sandor froze and stared at her. “Sandor?”

“Septon Ray also told me it was never too late.”

“He spoke true,” she replied, but he still looked troubled and looked at her guardedly.

“Happy memories?” 

_ Oh NO, she used the same phrase as he did when he goaded Ayra! Did he actually remember?  _ She proceeded with trepidation. “Playing games, being sworn to a family that appreciates you, living in quarters that are suited to you, having hot spring baths whenever you want. Does that not make you happy?” she teased, trying to lighten the dark look he was giving her.

“She told you.” 

Sansa gave the slightest of nods. They continued moving pieces to the board one by one, now in silence. They both reached for her last piece, an elephant, at the same time and knocked it to the floor. Sansa got off her chair to retrieve it, not knowing Sandor was doing the same. Soon her hand was on the smooth ivory, and then his hand was over hers. She froze, on all fours, under the table and looked at him.

 

**Sandor**

He automatically went to his knees next to his chair to reach for the elephant as it clattered onto the floor. He didn’t even hear Sansa do the same and his heart nearly stopped when instead of cool ivory, his hand molded over her delicate hand. His head snapped up and she was just over a foot away, staring at him. He opened his mouth, then closed it.  _ Buggering Hells! Say something!  _ He opened his mouth again, silence. His hand was still on hers, frozen. He remained on his knees but sat back on his heels, his thighs protesting at the stretch. He started to pull his hand away and she lifted her fingers as he did. She didn’t take her eyes off of him as their fingers drifted together. He put his hand on the leg of the table to get his feet under him so he could stand up. That is when he noticed she was getting closer. “Little Bird?” the question came out like a whisper. _ What is she doing? Is this the only way out from under the table?  _ Still squatting, he went to lean back and landed on his arse, feet flat on the floor in front of him, knees bent. His hands were behind him, holding him up or else he’d be on his back.  _ She is still crawling toward me!  _ He started to inch back as she proceeded closer, ignoring the elephant figure on the floor.

“Sandor, I do want to give you a happy memory. If you’d allow me,” she said, her voice low.

He was stunned and his hands slipped, causing him to land flat on his back with his knees still bent. Within moments she was over him, her body hovering inches from his with her hands at the side of his head on the floor. They were face to face now, her hair filtering the light from the fireplace so he was enveloped in a flickering red cocoon, with dark blue eyes that seemed to be peering into the very depths of his soul. “Do you want a happy memory? With me?” she asked. 

His heart was pounding so loud in his ears, he could barely hear himself breathe out a whispered, “Yes.” 

 

**Sansa**

The word barely left his lips when she dropped her head and pressed her lips to his. Though his lips were softer than she expected, he didn’t move. She pressed a bit harder, he didn’t move.

She pulled away slightly, pushing her hair out of the way. His eyes were nearly black and blown wide. “Sandor?” His eyes seemed to refocus and he looked at her. She took a deep breath, “I’ve wanted this for a long time, even when I gave up hope of ever seeing you again, and here you are...” Suddenly, he pushed up and their lips met again. She pressed down and moved her lips slightly. His head went back to the floor and his lips slowly moved with hers. She brought her hands in and lightly cupped his cheeks which caused him to start. She took the opportunity to deepen the kiss more, her tongue ever so lightly smoothing along his bottom lip. The noise he made was between a groan and a whimper. Soon she felt his hands at her shoulders. “Hold me closer,” she whispered into his mouth. Soon his arms were around her as he tightened his embrace.

 


	17. Commands in her Chambers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .... and it continues.

**Sandor**

His arms were around her tightly and he was fighting every instinct to crush her body to his. Her lips worked over his as they explored each other. Her tongue swept over his lower lip and he briefly panicked. No one in recent memory has ever kissed him like this. He would have to think very hard to remember the last time, if any, that lips were on his willingly. He whimpered slightly and parted his lips a fraction. Her tongue swept his lip again, probing slightly deeper. He sensed a rhythm and when her tongue swept in again, he opened a bit more and briefly drew it in. That is when she groaned, the sound vibrating in his mouth. Her hands were still cupping his face and he could feel her hair on his neck. This was beyond comprehension, she was kissing him. He was kissing her back. His heart was pounding, his mind was a jumble and the bridge of his nose was stinging with emotion. He licked at her lips then, sucking the top one in ever so slightly. That was when she shifted and her heavy skirts brushed along his cock.  _ Seven Hells.  _ He groaned and loosened his hold, starting to push her back. “Sansa,” he struggled to sit up, afraid she'd brush against him again. 

 

She moved back, looking at him, eyes puzzled, “Sandor...was that, was that alright?” 

He struggled to regulate his breathing, “It was more than alright, Little Bird. Any more and things could have gone too far.”

“But, I want –”

“Yes...exactly, what YOU want. Not what I want,  _ you _ need to command this.”

“Command?”

“You are the Lady of Winterfell. I know what it took to get you here. I will not take anything more. You are in command.”

“ _ I _ am in command of  _ you _ ?”

“Aye.”

 

**Sansa**

She was feeling light headed. Her lips were tingling from his beard and her heart was beating faster than ever. She took a deep breath and nodded. She scooted back and stood, using the table to steady herself. Sandor grunted as he also got to his feet. “Sansa, remember when I told you I could smell a lie?”

She swallowed, “ Yes?”

“Why did you lie to me?” 

She looked toward the fireplace, unable to meet his gaze “M’lord?”

“Don't m’lord me,” he smiled as his eyes narrowed, “you don't know how to play Cyvasse.” 

She felt her cheeks redden, “Was it that obvious?”

“You were putting the pieces in the wrong place, half of your pieces were on my side of the board. You didn't even have the screen up.” His smile widened, “So my lady, what were your true intentions?”

She walked past him and motioned to a chair, “Sit.” He looked at her. “I command it.” His eyes never left hers as he sat. 

_ He can smell a lie.  _ She stood in front of him. “My intention was to tell you how I felt.” His eyes narrowed more at her, but she went on, “My intention was to give you this.” She leaned in, putting her hands on the arms of the chair. She pressed her lips to his and she felt him press back, causing that flutter in her stomach again. She pulled back and held his eyes silently, “My intention was also to give you this.” She reached for his hand and curled it around hers as she pressed it to her heart, “I command it.” 

He bowed his head and dropped forward enough to rest his forehead to hers. She heard him take a deep, shuddering breath. He pulled their still joined hands to his chest. She felt his heart thudding quickly under her fingers. “It is yours,” he replied as he looked up and their eyes met. His eyes shone with emotion as he went on, “I may have sworn my allegiance to your house, but my heart is sworn to only you.” A bubble of joy that sounded like a half sob erupted from her throat as she kissed him again. Her lips went to his jaw, his cheeks, his brow. She kissed the worry away, the tears escaping from the corners of his eyes, and any doubt that he may have had left. 

 

**Ayra**

Sleep was eluding her. Winter was here, Jon was not, and the dead were marching. The distraction of playing games after supper was a welcome one. Sansa was right, soon their days would be filled with training, working, and fighting. They had to make the most of the time they had left. Even Bran was letting some of his inner wolf come out: working with them to give Littlefinger justice, reaching out to Clegane to help him, playing games… She smiled as she remembered the conversation in his room earlier. 

“Gendry will be here in less than a fortnight. I saw him.”

“What makes you think I need to know.”

“You don't  _ need _ to know, you  _ want _ to know,” he teased.

“Bran…” she warned.

“Arya,” He looked her in the eye, “there is no time for coyness. Propriety be damned. Ask for what you deserve. Sansa is.”

She was shocked at his words, though she knew all along. Sansa did deserve happiness and to love whomever she wanted. Ayra did, and at the same time didn't, understand Sansa's choice but she respected it.  _ King Robert did say she'd be happier with a dog,  _ she thought wryly.

She got up and paced her room. She reached for her water pitcher and cursed when she found it empty.  _ The walk would do me good, maybe I'll be able to sleep when I return _ . She secured Needle around her waist and left her chambers. 

The last person she expected to meet in the halls of the keep was Clegane. She groaned inwardly when it became apparent he was leaving Sansa's chambers.  _ He was with her this whole time?  _ “Hound?”

“Wolf Girl.” 

She looked at him,  _ seven Hells, was he smiling? _ “I am not going to ask.”

The smile faltered, “It was at her request that I accompany her. If you want to check on her to confirm my words–”

Ayra interrupted, “I believe you, Clegane. If I were to worry, it would be about you. I have heard what direwolves do to dogs.” As she walked past him, she could not contain her laughter at the look on his face. Her laughter rang through the hallways as she made her way outside to refill her pitcher. 


	18. Looking in the Godswood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than the expected visitors are seen. Sansa has yet another gift for Sandor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that my Beta, MrsDanaFox is the greatest?

  
  


**Sandor**

The next morning, Sandor was up early. He dressed slowly thinking about the night before.  _ I declared my heart to Sansa. _ It was the closest he had ever come to telling someone he loved them. The thought should terrify him, but it didn’t.  _ She gave me her heart. _ He shook his head, smiling to himself. Soon he’ll be writing songs and giving her flowers, and for some reason that didn’t terrify him either. Thinking of the kisses they shared started his heart racing again. He pulled on a tunic, appreciating it’s thicker material. Winterfell had talented craftsmen. He remembered how the Kingsguard told stories of the unrefined barbarians in the North as he traveled with King Robert’s court. That felt like a lifetime ago, he found it oddly satisfying that he found purpose with the Starks. In his opinion, the true barbarians were his former masters.  

He found food to break his fast in the kitchens since he was getting his day started before the others. Afterward, he made his way to the smithy to look at the weapons available. He was pleased to find many dragonglass pieces finished and requested that several be brought to the training yard. He went to the armory next and inspected the boiled leather pieces that were being fashioned for the influx of fighting men. He liked it much more than the plate armor. It was easier to maneuver in and the added fur lining made it warmer too. He spoke to the tanner about boots, the ones Sansa found for him fit but they were unlined. When he found several pairs of knit socks in his bundle of new clothes, he also realized that he could not pull the boots over them. Finding the socks had affected him in a way he didn’t expect. Sansa was right, he has gone for so long without the basics, even the smallest of gestures and basic items were a luxury. His heart also leapt a bit at the thought that Sansa herself might have knitted them. 

He made his way to the training yard and with the help of a few men, set up several straw dummies. Until the bannermen arrived, he was able to devote time to the Winterfell guards, the men of Wintertown and the Knights of the Vale. Whatever Jon had told everyone before he left to go to The Wall several months ago, it was effective. Everyone took the instructions Sandor gave seriously. Soon there were several groups of men taking turns attacking the straw forms with the dragonglass weapons. After several rounds, Sandor inspected the blades and handles, nothing was loose. Sandor thought to himself to compliment the smiths’ workmanship to Sansa. After a brief break, the men picked up practice swords to do some sparring. He wanted the men to be comfortable fighting without shields. He decided several days of working with the new dragonglass weapons and then working on various skills would be best. Once Arya, Brienne, and even Pod joined in with the training later, he was hopeful that Winterfell and the North could effectively battle the wights coming their way. Soon the sun was overhead and he dismissed the men for their midday meal, telling them to return for their afternoon session.

He hoped to find Ayra because he wanted her to spar with a few of the cockier men. Their attitudes will definitely get them killed. He made his way to the Great Hall and saw Gilly and little Sam at the head table. He sat next to her, “Good afternoon Gilly,” he leaned forward a bit, “good afternoon little Sam.”

“Hello, Lord Clegane.” Gilly looked a bit uncomfortable, he didn’t think they had ever been alone before.

“Where is everyone?” Sandor continued.

“Sam is collecting ravens with Maester Wolkan. Bran is in the godswood, Arya is with him and Sansa has not been seen since we broke our fast this morning.”

Sandor paused at that, he hoped Sansa wasn't working herself too hard. There were so many preparations to be done and he had no idea if she giving tasks to others. If she didn’t come down to eat, he will go to her chamber with a tray and perhaps tell her to use the people that she had available. “Hopefully everyone will come to eat soon, or I fear I won’t leave anyone any food,” Gilly laughed softly. “Gilly?” she turned to him, a bit startled. This was the most he has ever spoken to her. “I want you to learn to use dragonglass also. Jon said every woman and child.” 

“Little Sam too?”

“I’ll figure something out for Little Sam.” Sandor smiled at her, they are his family now too. Gilly smiled back at him and she put her arm around little Sam.

Soon Arya and Bran came in, she looked agitated.  _ Perhaps I’ll ask her about sparring after she eats _ , he mused. Sam huffed in with an armload of scrolls, also looking harried.  _ Fuck me, am I the only one that is actually in a good mood?  _ “Sam, stop! Put those buggering scrolls down, this isn’t the time or the place. Sansa isn’t even here.” 

Sam stopped and put the scrolls on another table, “You are right, m’lord.”

Once everyone was at the table, Arya spoke up, “Jaime is a half days ride behind Brienne.”

“Jaime?!” Sandor was only slightly surprised.

“How are we going to warn them? A raven will never make it in time.”

“It seems to me Cersei finally succeeded in driving off her brother,” Sandor stated. When he saw the looks of disbelief on everyone's face, he continued. “There is no way she’d send Jaime after Brienne and her squire - she would have him go after Jon and the Targaryen, especially since Tyrion is with them. Something happened, he is going after Brienne for another reason.”

“Surely you don’t think he wants to join forces?” Ayra laughed.

“You were not at the Dragonpits, there was a tension I can’t explain.” He looked around the table, “Trust me.”

Bran spoke up, “Clegane, perhaps Arya can relieve you this afternoon for a bit and you can join me in the godswood? Maybe you could see if Brienne will be safe?” 

“I can try.” He turned to Ayra, “There are a few men that need to be taught a bit of a lesson in the training yard.”

She smiled, “I look forward to it.”

Just then Sansa hurried in and took the empty place next to him. Her hand slightly brushed his arm as she sat and it was as though she put heated stones under his tunic. “Sorry I am late!” she chirped, smiling at everyone. Her smile lingered for a beat as she met Sandor’s eyes, he swallowed hard as he twitched a smile her way. Arya took a long drink from her cup and he could have sworn he heard a snort. 

Sam thankfully spoke up, “M’lady, several ravens have arrived from the bannermen. The men will start arriving tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Sam, I will review the scrolls in my solar. I would like you and Gilly to assist me with preparations.”

“Of course,” Sam replied as Gilly nodded.

“Very well, I will send for you when I have finished reading.” 

Arya and Bran filled Sansa in on the vision of Jaime coming North. Sansa shared Sandor’s assessment that there was nothing to fear. “Brienne and Jaime have been through many things together, she told me herself.” She smiled softly, “no harm will come to her.” 

_ Poor Tormund, _ he chuckled darkly,  _ I don’t want to be the sorry fucker to have to tell him that news.  _ He told her of the morning’s training and of the plans to return to the godswood with Bran later that afternoon.

Soon Sam and Gilly left the table. Sandor started to get up when a hand stilled him, “I have something for you, please come to my solar when you have a chance.”

He leaned in a bit, “My lady has given me so much. But I will be there soon.” He turned to Ayra, “I’ll see you in the training yard soon after.” He went to his chambers, for a brief moment he thought of taking himself in hand, her request had stirred his manhood. A quick thought of what Sansa was inferring about Brienne and Jaime put a quick end to that need. He went to the wash basin and rubbed a damp cloth over his face and cleaned his hands. He picked up his new mirror, it was small but it was enough. He regarded his reflection for a moment and picked up a comb. He smoothed the tangles from sparring and arranged the length over his scars.  _ I don’t understand, she’s so beautiful. Why me?  _ He pushed the doubt from his mind as he left his room to make his way to hers.

 

**Sansa**

She paced her room waiting for Sandor.  _ This is ridiculous, there is no reason to be nervous.  _ Soon there was a knock on her door and she rushed to open it. The door was barely closed behind him when his lips were on hers. “Please tell me this is what you wanted to give me.”

She put her hands on his shoulders, “I will always want to give you kisses. However, there is something else I want to give you.” She gestured to her solar. 

Sandor walked in and she followed, chewing on her lip. He looked at the bundle on her desk. “This?” she nodded to him as he picked it up and it opened to its full length. “A cloak.” He stared at it and then turned to her. “You made me a cloak?” His voice was soft, almost awestruck.

“Yes, it is the Northern style. Double thick with chest straps and a fur-lined collar.” He put it on and she adjusted and tightened the straps. The collar was soft fox fur and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if he would know that she used the red fur on purpose.

“Sansa, it fits perfectly,” he took her face in his hands and kissed her again, deeply. Her knees weakened immediately as her arms wound around his neck.

She stepped back and motioned to the straps, “You’ll have to look at the details when you have time, my lord.”

“I will always be your lord, Sansa,” he had her hand in his and he kissed the inside of her wrist, sending shivers through her body.

“Please join me after dinner,” she said suddenly.

“Sansa?” his eyes searched hers.

“It would please me, Sandor.” Soon the cloak was wrapped around them both as he embraced and kissed her again. 

“As you command.”

After Sandor was able to tear himself away, she returned to the solar and addressed the scrolls.

She sent for Gilly and Sam to begin preparations in Winter Town and within Winterfell for the influx of fighting men and the throng of people to follow from the East.

 

**Arya**

She stared as Clegane strode into the training yard. She recognized Sansa’s handiwork anywhere, the cloak was magnificent - even she had to admit it. Clegane looked every bit the lord now, there was no denying it.  _ So that's what she's been working on day and night.  _ Clegane had a whole new wardrobe by now. Which suited Arya just fine because he needed it. He came up next to her and stopped. “Nice cloak,  _ m'lord.”  _ She heard a grunt and she looked up to see him trying to hide the smile.

He gestured slightly to the men, “That one and that one. I want you to spar with them next, they need a lesson.” He filled her in on the exercises they were doing with the dragonglass in the methods of fighting he was showing them. She was impressed - she's only known him as a brute, not as a trainer. After a few moments, she approached one of the men and offered to spar with him. She was going to have fun. As she easily disarmed him, she saw Bran roll into the courtyard towards Clegane. Soon after, her sparring partner was flat on his back so she turned and nodded, “I can take it from here for a bit.”

“Men, you are in Lady Arya's command for the time being.” The courtyard was filled with the sounds of affirmative answers and “m'lords.”  _ Yes, every bit a lord.  _ She mused as she saw him disappear, pushing Bran easily down the path. 

She sparred with a few other men before having them resume working with dragonglass. She held a dagger in her hand, the weight and balance were definitely different. She took turns with the men attacking the straw forms. She called for a brief break and went back over to where her cloak and water skin laid. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Clegane and Bran approach. Both expressions were blank, but she noticed that Clegane's hands gripped the handles of the wheelchair tightly. 

She walked up to them, out of earshot of the men. “Did you see?”

Bran nodded, “Jaime will be joining the traveling party, no one is in danger.”

Arya stared at Bran, jaw hanging open, “Bran, Jaime did this to you! He pushed you from a bloody window! If anyone is a danger, he is!”

Bran put his hand on Arya’s “If it weren't for him, I would not have discovered my gift. It was meant to be.” 

“But he has to pay!” she insisted.

“He has,” Bran leveled his gaze at her.

“We all have.” At Clegane’s words, she stopped.  _ We all have. _

“This doesn't mean I have to like him,” she grumbled.

“You don’t,” Bran replied. “Gendry is also on track to meet them at the Crossroads.”

Arya’s head swam for a moment, “So? I don’t care.” Clegane barked out a laugh and abruptly shut his mouth when she glared at him.

“They’ll be here in just over a week, I would guess. They are traveling quickly.” Bran continued and Arya nodded.

“Did you see anything else?” she looked at Clegane then, as his hands still gripped Bran’s chair tightly.

“Aye, my vision of the wights attacking Winterfell is sharper. Bran went out to see where they are now. We are on our way to see Maester Wolkan to look at maps.”

She stepped back, “I’ll let you be on your way. I will continue with the men.” Clegane nodded to her and pushed Bran toward the tower.


	19. Discovery in the Maester's Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two POVs this chapter. Sandor makes a discovery and Sansa reveals her ties to the past.

**Sandor**

He stood and looked at the cages of ravens housed in the Maester’s turret. There were dozens of them alongside the windows that circled the tower. Bran poured over maps and drawings spread across a large table with Maester Wolkan. Periodically, Bran would point to an image sketched on the papers, “Does this look familiar?” Sandor tried to help the best he could, but his visions were mainly of Winterfell and he was unfamiliar with the North. He sat at a smaller table by a window and decided to take a look at his cloak. He took it off and laid it in front of him, looking at the straps. It looked as though there were direwolves embossed on them. There were some faint impressions in between. He lifted the leather closer,  _ are those hounds?  _ He traced his finger across it softly. He looked by the collar and noticed embroidery along the edge. Those  _ were _ hounds! Black and yellow hounds dotted the edges along with red and blue birds. He felt his pulse quicken and an unfamiliar lightness in his chest. The embroidery followed the edge all the way around. He followed the pattern to the bottom and was dismayed to find that he already snagged the hem on something and ripped it. He turned the cloak to inspect it closer and noticed that there were three layers of cloth,  _ No wonder it is so warm.  _ He poked his finger into the hole to inspect the other material and jerked his hand away sharply.  _ I know that material  _ his stomach twisted with the memory. Looking behind him at his occupied companions, he ripped the seam a little more. All he needed to do was pull a little of the center material out and... _ buggering hells!  _ He jumped out of his seat as though the Stranger himself grasped his arm. 

“Clegane, are you alright?” Bran looked up from the maps.

“I’ll be fine. See you at supper?” he rasped.

“That is fine, the Maester can bring me down and there are valets to help if needed,” Bran nodded to him and resumed his reading. 

Sandor gathered his cloak and walked out as quickly as he could. His mind raced as he made his way to Sansa’s quarters. He knew she was busy, but this couldn’t wait. He had to know before he went out of his head. He finally reached her door and pounded on it. She opened it with a surprised look on her face that quickly turned into a smile. “Sandor I wasn't expecting you, come in,” she stepped back as he strode into the room. She looked at him then and her brow furrowed, “You seem troubled,” she began.

“Aye, troubled is a good way to start,” he wanted to growl at her but the sentence came out weakly.

“Please sit,” She gestured to one of the chairs.

He didn't want to sit, he paced around the room and circled around her holding the cloak in his arms. How was he going to begin? How was he going to ask her? Did he even want to know the answer? “Sansa, I went to the godswood with Bran.”

“Have you seen anything new?” She jumped in. 

“We'll get to that,” he lifted the cloak that was in his arms,”I ripped the hem of my cloak.”

“That shouldn't be cause for alarm, I can quickly repair it if that's what's bothering you.” She looked confused now.

His fingers went to the tear and held it in front of her, “It's not the rip Sansa, it's  _ this.”  _ He saw her face pale and at that moment he knew the answer. “So it  _ is _ my Kingsguard cloak. What was it doing in Winterfell?” 

Sansa pointed to the chair again, “Please...sit.”

She twisted her fingers slightly and began. Sander sat and listened as she told him about how she kept the cloak, traveled with it, used it for comfort during the time they were apart. He didn't even remember leaving it behind, yet there it was in his hands ages later. It seemed like a lifetime ago, they were such different people now. She ended her tale and looked at him hopefully. “I told you I missed you.”

He got up then and took her face in both his hands. “You said our time for regrets are over. So I will tell you that I am glad to be with you now. I am glad this cloak is marked with your hand now. I will wear this cloak proudly knowing that it once brought you comfort.” His lips met hers and her arms wound around his neck immediately. He pulled her to him tightly and the kisses became heated. He could not get enough of her; her tongue tangled with his and sent waves of pleasure all the way down to his toes. He resisted the urge to grind himself into her hips as he pressed his body to hers. Finally they parted and she panted slightly, “Tonight.” She unwound herself from him.

He nodded, trying to catch his breath. “Tonight.”

 

**Sansa**

A small thread of worry that he would catch on to how she was able to assemble a cloak so quickly that fit him so well crossed her mind before she gave it to him. But she did not expect it to be in less than a day. She was relieved though, no regrets also meant no secrets. By his reaction, he was pleased too. By the Gods, she liked kissing him. The spark of desire she had was fanned into a heat that was getting harder and harder to snuff out.  _ This is how it is supposed to be. Passion on the brink of madness.  _ She sighed inwardly. She gestured to the chair next to her, “Sit, tell me about your day.” 

He sat and told her about what he and Bran saw. He seemed troubled, his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly. “Bran is with Maester Wolkan now trying to determine a distance.”

She leaned toward him, “We are preparing the best we can. Soon Winterfell will be surrounded by good strong fighting men. Our army against theirs.” She smiled then, “no one will hurt me with you by my side.” A lump formed in her throat as she put her hand over his,  _ by my side.  _ “Sandor?”

“Yes, my lady?” That simple response sent warmth down to her toes.

“I remember when you put your cloak around me in the throne room of King's Landing. I felt safe then. During the battle you left your cloak again in my room, I felt safe then too.” He nodded to her. “Maybe a third time would do the trick so I could be safe by your side for always.”

He stared at her now, slightly unsure and vulnerable, ”Sansa?” his hand was still under hers and it trembled slightly.

She leaned in and looked into his eyes, “and of course, you would be safe at my side.” She lifted her other hand and put it on his scarred cheek, he leaned into it instinctively.

“Sansa, what are you saying?”

“I'm saying we've been joined in our hearts for longer than we could admit to each other and even to ourselves. I want to join you for true in front of the Gods, in front of everyone, I want to be your wife.”

He stared at her,eyes softened and beginning to shine with unshed emotion, ”You want me? I'm a monster.” 

“I know true monsters, you are not one. You are a man that loves me. You do, don't you?”  _ Does he love me? Have I gone too far?  _ She bit her bottom lip and looked at him.

“I do, Gods help me. I do.” His forehead rested against hers as his hand cradled the side of her head. 

“As do I. Sandor, please believe these words I say.” She nuzzled the side of his face where her hand was previously. They set that way for several moments, holding each other. 

When he spoke again his voice was thick with emotion. “Now what? When?”

“Soon. I wish to speak to Arya and Bran.”

“Soon.” Again she found herself in his arms and it was the only place she wanted to be.


	20. All in the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A name is just a name... isn't it?

**Arya**

Arya was in her chambers when she heard the light knocking on her door. She opened it to a flushed Sansa, “thank goodness you are here, I didn’t want to have to send someone to the training yard.” 

“I was just cleaning up and changing for supper. Is there a problem?” she cocked her head at her sister, something was up.

“I need to speak to you immediately, Bran too. Someone is bringing him here now.” She glanced toward the door and fiddled with the scroll she held.

“Is everything alright Sansa? What is that?” Arya pointed to the parchment.

“Everything is better than fine, and this is something Jon drew up before he left. Just in case.”

Now Arya was confused, their days were going to be long and difficult very soon. Winter was here and her sister was looking...giddy? Arya looked closer at her sister,  _ why is her jawline red? Did she wash with silt? It was like she rubbed her face in coarse direwolf fur, even the dogs aren’t that bristl-  _ “Sansa?” she felt her voice squeak, “Have you been, are you…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. If she said it out loud, it made it real. The door opened and Bran was pushed in,  _ thank the gods.  _

Soon they were alone with the door closed. Bran said nothing, but smiled  that smug smile of his. Sansa paced nervously and finally directed them to go in the sitting room by the fireplace. “I guess you want to know what this is all about?” Sansa started, slowly.

“Get on with it!” Arya blurted.

“I’m getting married.” 

Arya jerked and stood up.  _ Married?  _ “You are getting married? You? To whom? When? Sansa we are at the brink of war! Have you lost your mind?” 

Bran raised his hand, “Arya…”

“Don’t ‘Ayra’ me, Bran,” she growled, getting angry. “Sansa? What in seven hells is going on?”

Sansa stood in front of her and drew herself up to her full height and set her jaw. “I told Jon I was not to be marriage fodder anymore. I told him I wanted to marry for love, for  _ me. _ So he drew up this decree granting me that power.”

Arya was getting impatient, “Sansa! Who?!”

“I didn’t know he felt the same way, I don’t want to waste another moment..”

“WHO IS IT?!” Arya was going to lose her mind, even though her gut screamed  the answer at her.

“Sandor.” Sansa looked her in the eyes, daring her to argue.

“You cannot become a Clegane!” Arya was incredulous now.

“She won’t. He will become a Stark.” Bran answered and to Arya’s shock, Sansa nodded.

“Sandor agreed take my name. The name Clegane means little to him now. We are his family.”

Arya stared at Sansa, then at Bran.  _ Sandor Stark. He is trading in his hounds for direwolves.  _ She swallowed and looked at Sansa. “Do you love him?” Sansa nodded, smiling.  _ ew  _ “Does he love you?” 

Sansa nodded again, “He does Arya, really.”

Arya pinched the bridge of her nose, “I believe it,” she paused and smiled at Sansa, “all of it.” Soon Sansa’s arms were around her shoulders in a tight hug.  _ Sandor Stark is going to be my goodbrother.  _ At this revelation, she started laughing.

 

**Sansa**

Arya was doubled over with laughter, and it was becoming unnerving. Did she truly find it funny or was she going to slip into a rage? This was not going as she planned at all. “Arya?” She looked at Bran, at least he was smiling. She knew he and Sandor understood each other. “Bran? Are you alright with this?”

“I knew.” He said, glancing at her.

“That's it Bran! No more! Unless you think we are in grave danger, no more three-eyed sneaking around.” 

He nodded and reached for her hand, “I am happy for you. Both of you.”

Finally Arya was composed, “I am too.”

“Truly?”

“Truly, I swear,” Arya lifted her hands.

“Arya, Jon wrote the same decree for you,” she smiled at her little sister, “just in case.”

Arya scoffed and made a face, “That's silly.”

Sansa turned to Bran, “Let's go downstairs to supper, your future good brother is anxious to see if he is accepted or run through with Needle.” 

They walked into the great hall soon after as Sandor paced  by the fireplace. Arya huffed and muttered a string of curse words under her breath before she marched toward him. Sansa froze and hung back, watching. 

Arya and Sandor were nose to nose and hands waved in the air. Sansa glanced at Bran and gave him a nervous smile. A moment later, Arya was in Sandor's arms for the briefest of hugs. Sandor walked to Bran and put his hand on his shoulder gently. “Do I have your blessing, Bran?”

Bran put his hand over Sandor's, “You know that you do.”

“Good, now let's eat before we start singing songs of love to each other,” Sandor  turned to Sansa and his hand extended to her. She readily took it and they all walked to the table. 

 

**Sandor**

_ Arya didn't attack me, Bran didn't protest. That was a good sign. Now, for the rest of Winterfell, _ he swallowed and  looked around the great Hall that was starting to fill with people for supper. 

He attacked his food and was about to down a second cup of sour red when Sansa’s hand stilled his arm. He leaned over, “Fuck it, I'm on edge. When are you going to say something?” 

“Soon, after this course.”

Within moments, he watched her stand and address the gathering. His heart filled with pride as she told of her decision and what her plans were for  the future. When she was finished, she stayed standing. He stood and faced everyone with her. Yohn Royce stood, “My Lady, we fought for you against the Boltons, we know that the marriage was not your decision. We also know your treatment was  not your decision. We will gladly stand by any decision you make for yourself. The Knights of the Vale congratulate you and Lord Clegane.”

Sandor stared, surprised and turned to Sansa, squeezing her hand. “Now we just need the support of the bannermen when they start arriving,” she told him. With supper completed,  groups of people in the hall stood and confirmed their felty to Sansa and the soon-to-be Lord Stark. A hand politely appeared on his shoulder and he turned. Sam nervously smiled and offered his hand. Gilly was beaming behind him.  _ Family, I have a true family. _

Dessert came and the mood in the room was jovial. Sansa talked  about the small Sept and cloaks when some of her words started to concern him. “Little Bird?,” he asked quietly in her ear, “when is this marriage to take  place?”

“Why, tonight. After dessert .”

For the first time in years, he was terrified. 

  
  



	21. Finally in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early, happy Mother's Day ;)

**Sansa**

She reached under the table and grabbed Sandor's hand and he clasped hers back tightly. “Is that alright with you?” She said low enough for only him to hear. He nodded and she felt a brief squeeze of her fingers. “I have some members of the household staff making preparations now.” He nodded again. “Sandor?”

He turned then and she saw it, the flicker of fear. “Let's walk,” she said as she stood and pulled on his arm. 

“Are we meeting later as we discussed, Sansa?” Ayra started to stand.

“Yes, at the hour of the bat. You, Bran, Sam, Gilly, Maester Wolkan, and the Septon.” She started to walk again with Sandor close behind her. The hall was quiet, the light struggling to come in through the windows. Though the fireplace was lit, the warmth still hadn't quite met every corner of the room. She shivered slightly.

“Tonight? Perhaps you should have told me also?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“I want to be wed before our days get consumed by this upcoming war.” she stopped then, not wanting the servants that were silently clearing dishes to overhear.

“Don’t you have to make a maiden’s cloak? Prepare a feast? Ready the chambers? And what talk is this of a Sept, why not the godswood?” the questions poured from his mouth.

“I am not a maid - a cloak is unnecessary, no one needs a feast, the chambers will be ready,” she paused, willing her eyes to stay dry. “I was already married in the godswood, Sandor.”

She watched as her words made their way from his mind to his heart. A painful expression crossed his face as he crushed her to his chest. , “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by my questions. I just want it to be special for you.”

“Special? What is special is YOU. Now, go to your soon-to-be former chambers, find your cleanest clothes, and meet me and the rest of your family in the sept at the hour of the bat.”

She felt the wall of the corridor against her back as he pressed her against it. “Your commands get my blood up, my lady,” his teeth lightly scraped her earlobe and sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Whatever do you mean, my lord?” she breathed out. At that, he pressed forward and tilted his hips. The steel hardness of his manhood ground into the juncture of her legs, sending a rush of heat to her belly. She barely stifled a groan, “it will be a very short ceremony.”

“It better be,” he kissed her and started to lift her off her feet. He held her briefly and then set her down before striding away toward his rooms. 

She leaned against the wall for a brief moment to compose herself.  _ A VERY short ceremony. _

 

**Sandor**

He stood in his room and stared. A flurry of valets and maids had moved nearly all of his possessions from his chambers. A tub of steaming water waited for him as well as a new pair of boots. He pulled a gray tunic from his pile of clothes along with other items and nodded to the maid that waited to whisk the rest away. “Keep the women out, I’m bathing,” he growled to the valet still in his room. As the young man started to leave, he stopped him, “Wait. Can you read?” 

“Yes, m’lord.”

Sandor went to his solar and was relieved to find a quill and some parchment, he scrawled across it and handed it over, “Understand that? I need it before the hour of the bat tonight.” He went to his sword in the corner and retrieved a small pouch from underneath the handle, fishing for some coins, “This should be enough.” After the valet left, he settled in the tub and scrubbed, paying extra attention to his hands and nails. He thought for a brief moment and reached for the bottle of oil after he washed his hair, _she says she likes lavender_ he chuckled to himself before rubbing some in his hair. He paused and rubbed a little in his beard too. After his bath, he dried off and got dressed. “Seven Hells,” he cursed when he noticed his mirror and comb was gone. He marched to his door and yanked it open and yelled to the first man he saw in the hallway, “Get me a groom, now!” He had time, but he was getting anxious. _Maybe it’s a good idea for a groom right now, I_ _would probably slice my own neck trying to_ _shave_. A few moments later a man arrived with a pouch of instruments. With precision and grace, Sandor’s hair was trimmed and combed, as was his beard; a mirror was placed in his hands. He stared at himself _by the end of tonight, I will be Lord Stark of Winterfell_ his chest tightened with emotion and he cleared his throat loudly. “Thank you,” he said, handing the mirror back to the groom. As the groom was leaving, the valet returned. He was nearly out of breath from running, he handed Sandor a small drawstring bag. He looked at the items in his hand and smiled, “You did well.” The valet exited hastily, leaving Sandor standing alone as he put on his empty sword belt and attached the bag to it.

Just as the decision was made to make his way to the sept, there was a knock on his door. He opened it and snorted. “I will run you through if you laugh.” Arya snapped, holding her hand up.

Sandor smiled, “Why aren’t you with your sister?”

“Are you kidding? I had to get away from her. I might’ve ended up in a dress. I barely escaped this!” she gestured wildly to the braids with the ends tied off in ribbons.

“I was just going to leave,” he offered his elbow, “care to escort me, my lady?”

“It’s Arya, Hound,” she took his arm.

“Arya?” 

“Yes?”

“You look pretty.” A punch landed on his side.

“Hound?”

“Yes?”

“You smell like flowers.” 

At that, he laughed loudly and was soon joined by Arya, “Aye.”

“I’m glad you're going to be my goodbrother,” at that he squeezed her hand slightly with his arm and they walked to rest of the way to the sept in silence.

 

**Sansa**

She sat at the back of the sept with Bran at her side. He insisted that he escort her down the small aisle, “The first two were a mummers show, Sansa. This one is the true wedding.”

Sam, Gilly, Little Sam and Maester Wolkan sat in the front while the Septon lit a few candles in wall sconces. “Not too many Septon, please.” He nodded in acknowledgment. She heard the heavy door creak and looked over. Sandor and Arya walked in. Her heart leapt at the sight as he walked to the Septon. Arya was soon at her side and Sansa was relieved to see that she had kept the ribbons in place. 

Arya pushed Bran’s chair, so it was all three of them that ended up at the front of the Sept where her soon-to-be husband waited. Her sister and brother presented her to the Septon and made their way to the others that watched the ceremony. Sansa's head swam, she barely heard the words being recited. She said her vows on cue and her heart raced as she heard the rasp of Sandor’s voice as he repeated his vows to her. His cloak was wrapped around her shoulders after their vows were exchanged. It wasn't until she felt his finger under her chin to lift it that she realized the ceremony was over and her now husband was going to kiss her. His lips met hers gently and she pressed back, cupping his face with her hands. After they parted, she heard the whispered “I love you” that was meant only for her ears. They were surrounded by everyone in attendance, hugs and words of congratulations were exchanged before they made their way back outside. 

“Wait one moment,” Sandor's hand rested on her shoulder. They stood in the moonlight as his hand went to his belt to retrieve a bag he had tied there. “I didn't have time to properly get something for my new wife, I hope this will do.” He pulled out a small brooch in the shape of a bird and pinned it to her dress. Next, a long blue ribbon of silk was tied around her wrist. 

“It's perfect, my lord husband.” She was overwhelmed at the moment. Emotions clogged her throat to where she could barely speak. Her vision was blurred with tears of happiness. She waited so long for the right man and here he was, in front of her. “Shall we retire?” The words were barely out of her mouth before she felt the pull of him nearly dragging her across the courtyard to their quarters. 

 

**Sandor**

Sansa was right, the ceremony was short. Very short. After accepting his gifts she suggested they retire and he feared he almost ripped her arm from her body from dragging her across the courtyard.  _ I am a married man,  _ his heart was the lightest he had ever felt it. His body was tense, yet tingled with excitement. He knew he had to compose himself or else it was going to be an embarrassing night. He slowed down to a walk with his arm draped over Sansa’s shoulders as they made their way to their chambers. She opened the door and his breath hitched. The fireplace was lit and a flagon of wine sat on the table with two elegant cups. A fire was also lit in the bedchamber fireplace Sansa went there and removed his cloak and gently laid it over a trunk. She walked back to him as he stood near the table and tipped her head, “wine?” He nodded and she poured two cups. They stood inches apart as they took their first drink as husband and wife. He took the cup from her hand and put back on the table. His hands went to her hips with his thumbs circling her rib cage just under her breasts. Her hands went to his belt and he was pulled closer. Swiftly, her lips were on his and her tongue was lapping at the corner of his mouth. She tugged at his belt again, “Off” she commanded. His hands left hers as he quickly unbuckled the clasp and let it fall to the ground. He followed her into the bedchamber and sat next to her on the freshly made bed. She reached down and started to remove her shoes, he pulled off his boots and socks, throwing them in the corner. Her hands went to the bottom hem of his tunic, “off” the command came. 

He paused for a moment, “I hope you don't expect anything more than a battle-scarred body m’lady.” 

“I expect my husband. I know your trials and I know of your tribulations. I love the man no matter what shape his body is in. No regrets, Sandor,” she paused, looking down, “for either of us.”

Her words gave him pause, he never thought that she herself could carry scars of her battles. He didn't care about any lines that might mar her body, he loved her. At that moment he realized that that is what she felt for him. She saw through them, she saw  _ him _ just as he only saw  _ her _ . Scars be damned for both of them. He pulled his tunic off. Her hands immediately buried themselves in the thick hair covering his chest and he heard a faint groan. “Do you like what you see, little bird?” She bit her bottom lip and nodded. 

She stood and turned with her back to him. His hands went up to her laces and after a small struggle with the ties, he had it loosened enough for her to wriggle out of the gown. It pooled at her feet before she stepped out of it. He quickly picked it up and laid it over his cloak on the trunk. He turned and drank in the sight of her wearing a light silken ivory shift and her small clothes. She walked towards him and pushed him toward the bed. Her hands now on the ties of his trousers, “now these...off.” He felt the material loosen as he promptly sat down and kicked the pants off of his legs toward the corner of the room. All that remained were his small clothes, another item he found in his generous new wardrobe. Sansa came and stood in between his legs with her hands on his shoulders. Their mouths met again as their hands tangled within each other’s hair. After a few moments, her hands were on his chest and she pushed back lightly. “Sit back up on the bed,” he sat with his back against the headboard and his long, muscular legs extended in front of him. Her hands went to the bottom of her shift as she pulled it over her head. She was exquisite. She was a dream that he never wanted to wake from. Light scars criss-crossed over her belly and her legs. He swallowed the sorrow he felt and the knowledge of how she got most of them. She was his now and she will never get scarred again for as long as he lived. Still wearing her small clothes, she crawled onto the bed. She sat next to him and turned to kiss him. 

He raised his hand again and stopped, “Sansa, everything is at your command.”

“Touch me,” she all but moaned. His hands raised to her ribs and he brought his thumbs up to brush her breasts. She shuddered and leaned into him. He applied more pressure and felt her nipples harden between his thumb and fingers. She groaned as her hands rubbed down his chest. His cock was straining against the thin cloth of his small clothes and he fought to catch his breath. _ I have the rest of my life with her, take your time. _ His hips bucked slightly as he felt her hand brush his manhood. A low growl of desire rumbled from deep in his chest. She smiled and swung a leg over his hips so she straddled him. Her lips went to his neck and she kissed him there, she licked and nipped at him making a trail to the center of his chest. His hands slid down her ribs to her hips and his fingers spanned her buttocks. She sat up and pressed herself closer all while rolling her hips. The cloth that was left on their bodies rubbed together, the friction nearly made him cry out. He blinked and looked into her eyes, “untie my small clothes,” she said. The command made his cock strain even more toward her heat. His hands pulled at the side laces and they were quickly undone. Her hands made expeditious work of his ties and soon both strips of clothes were pulled away and landed near his boots. 

They stared at each other. “Sansa, tell me what you want.”

Her head went to his shoulder, “I don't know what I want.” 

He lifted her head and looked at her, “Do you want pleasure?”

“Yes.”

“It is yours. Take whatever you need.” He let a hand trail down her side to her hip before reaching between her legs. He was surprised to find her arousal so evident. His finger slipped into her easily and she gasped. He brought his other hand to her breast and he rubbed her nipple again. He leaned forward and kissed her breast, she arched back and rolled her hips, riding his hand. His thumb found the top of her slit and he rubbed there, soon a warmth coated his hand and she moaned loudly. Her hands went to his hips and he felt small, but strong, fingers wrap around his cock. He bucked again instinctively. She lifted up and his fingers left her heat. With her gaze locked to his, he felt her sink slowly upon him, filling her to her core. Her eyes fluttered shut and once she was fully seated, she opened her eyes. Tears shone in the corner of her eyes. “Am I hurting you?”

“This fullness does not hurt, the tears are because I know I'm exactly where I want to be.”

The bridge of his nose stung at her words because he knew exactly what she had meant. She rolled her hips again and his head fell against the headboard. He thrusted up gently the next time her hips rolled and they both groaned in unison. Within moments, they moved together, panting. With his hands spanning her hips he brought his thumb again to the top of their joining and rubbed. Her mouth fell open and he felt a spasm as she tightened around him. “Take what you need my wife. I will always follow,” he kissed her neck and the shell of her ear. At that her insides rippled and clenched, he felt a pooling of heat at the base of his cock and a wave of tingling pleasure started to unfurl. She stiffened then and cried out, the pull on his manhood from her climax tipped him over the edge and soon he spilled his seed deep inside her, thrusting up as she ground down on him. Sparks exploded behind his eyes and his mind could only form one word,  _ Sansa. _

 


	22. Faith in the Bannermen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New POV in the mix!

**Arya**

She stared at the ceiling just as the sun started to peek through her window. She was to train the men today, as Sansa and Sandor had the day to themselves. Though she struggled to understand what in the seven hells her sister saw in Sandor, she could not deny that they loved each other. _ Would anyone ever look at me like that?  _ Her thoughts quickly went to Gendry and just as quickly, dismissed them,  _ there is too much to think about besides him _ . She sighed and got up to get dressed. As she pulled her hair back, she noticed that her hair was wavy from the wedding braids. She regarded herself in the mirror _ Arya Horseface...Arry...m’lady, _ she frowned and tightened her sword belt before reaching for Needle.

She left her chambers and went to the great hall to break her fast. Sam was waiting for her when she arrived, “Arya, the first of the bannermen are due to arrive mid-morning.”

“Very well, have Gilly make sure the accommodations are ready and have any completed dragonglass weapons taken from the smith to the armory.”

Sam swallowed, “And Lord and Lady Stark?”

Arya paused, this was to be the first test of the bannermen’s reaction to Sansa’s marriage, “I will have word sent to their chambers now and upon the bannermen’s  approach, they will be advised that it would be prudent to greet them.” 

Sam nodded and smiled, “Very well.”

Arya knew her sister and goodbrother would not be happy to have their day interrupted. She shuddered to think of  _ what _ would be interrupted.  _ Ew  _

After eating, she trained with the men. Before long she had one skilled man in the group resume working with the men and went to the armory to find the lighter weapons. After the mid-day meal, the women were going to meet in a smaller yard to train on basic handling. Soon she heard the sounds of horns in the distance.

 

**Jaime**

Just as he cleared the rise he saw them, Brienne and Pod. A man driving a small cart accompanied them. Jaime shook his head, in less then a year's time, the journey North on the Kings Road was nearly trouble-free. It was no longer crowded, the small villages were abandoned, even the robbers were scarce. He expected to see more people as he approached the crossroads, but as it stood now it was apparent that the siege at Highgarden and the dragons have succeeded in scaring the small folk away. He had no idea where they would have run to. North? No chance, not with winter coming. Not East toward the dragons. Not South to King’s Landing. Maybe Southwest. Maybe they just all died. The kingdom under Joff’s rule suffered. Tommen’s rule was useless and Cersei...Cersei was destroying Westeros with her stubborn pride. _Fuck loyalty._ He knew where he needed to be, she was in front of him at this very moment. He spurred his horse into a run after the small party ahead of him.

 

**Sandor**

_ Fuck. Fuck me and fuck them.  _ Sandor jerked his clothes on. He wanted to enjoy his wife today. He had planned on taking her across every piece of furniture in their shared quarters. So far it was only the bed and her desk. He smiled as he remembered, all she had to do was reach across for a scroll and his manhood had sprung to life. He rubbed against her backside and soon she was willing. It was one thing to love someone, but she desired him. He had started gently and soon she slammed back into him and tilted her hips enough for him to go deep enough for his balls to slap against her thighs. Remembering it started to arouse him again, so he shifted his thoughts back to the buggering bannermen that were set to arrive at any moment. “Who are they again?” he growled.

“The Karstarks and the Umbers are right behind them,” she paused, “I tried taking their lands away, Jon overruled me. We have to be very gracious.” Sandor snorted then noticed Sansa and realized she was serious. He crossed the room and put his arms around her, “Yes, my lady. You are the Wardenness of the North.” He kissed her and went to the door and opened it. She pressed by him and he followed her to the Great Hall. 

 

**Sansa**

Here she stands again with Alys kneeled in front of her. “Please rise Lady Alys, I bid you and your men welcome.” Alys rose and gave Sansa a tentative smile, though it did not reach her eyes.

“My Lady.” 

“I am sure you have been apprised of the training and preparations being made to protect the North?”

“Yes, my lady. My fighting men have made their way to the training yard already. We thank you for housing us within Winterfell and Wintertown also,” Alys continued, “camps have also been set up around the perimeter and all provisions are still arriving to see us through the winter.”

“Thank you Alys, the Karstarks have proven to be loyal,” Sansa smiled.

Alys lowered her eyes, “M’lady? We also heard you were married.” 

Sansa glanced at Sandor, “Yes, my lord husband is the Master at Arms. Your men will soon be seeing him in the training yard.”

“Forgive me, Lady Clegane...are you no longer a Stark?”

Sansa felt the heat of anger start to bubble, she had to control it if she didn’t want to repeatedly explain herself over and over, she had to do this right. “Lady Alys, I am Lady Stark. My husband has taken my name and our children will bear the Stark name.”

“He is not a Northern man, he once served the Lannisters, if I am correct?”

“Many years ago, yes, but he traveled beyond the wall with Jon. He traveled to King’s Landing with Jon and swore to the Starks in this very room. Jon himself made him Lord and Master at Arms. He is loyal to all members of the Stark family and to the bannermen.” 

Sandor stepped forward and Sansa held her breath, “I am a lord in title only. Your lady Sansa is the Ruler here as Wardenness of the North. I only advise on matters of fighting. I assure you, I am on the side of the living. I am with the North until my dying day.” He rasped, hand on the pommel of his sword. He glanced at her then, mouth betraying no emotion as they waited.

Alys and her escorts knelt, “To Lady and Lord Stark.”

Sandor bowed his head, “I will take my leave then. Training waits for no one.” Sansa nodded to him and before he turned, he flashed her a smile.  _ My lord husband. _

 


	23. In the early light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the day starts for Jaime and Sandor.

**Jaime**

Jaime woke in his small, but comfortable room at the Crossroads Inn. He smiled as he remembered the look of shock that was on Brienne's face when he finally got close enough for them to see it was him. Podrick just stared at him open-mouthed for so long that Brienne snapped at him to shut it. They rode in silence for the short distance to the inn. He glanced at her more than once as they rode, he couldn't help it - she was a sight for sore eyes. There were very few people in his life that he trusted and Brienne was at the top of that list. He hoped that she trusted him too. He got up and readied himself for the day. He was getting better and better at doing things for himself. He realized quickly just how much servants and squires did for him in the past, his first few nights on the Kings Road alone were hell. His golden hand stayed in his saddlebag, it really was quite cumbersome. Each night before it got too dark, he would practice with his sword. He was gaining more and more confidence using his non-dominant hand. Once he let go of the pity of never again being the greatest swordsman, he realized with practice, he could be quite good once more. This morning he had to convince Brienne of Cersei’s duplicity and that he wanted to go North and fight those undead....things. He made his way to the common room and hoped she would be down there already. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her sitting at the table alone. “Where is your squire?” he smiled at her as he sat down. “He is still in the room he did not sleep well and I want him to stay awake today.”

Jamie frowned, “You share a room with Podrick?” Jamie had heard the rumors about Podrick's skills and part of him wondered if Brienne knew about them first-hand.

“We do not have much coin, so we share rooms when we find inns. It's no different than sharing the ground near a campfire. He gets the warm floor by the fireplace and I get the bed,” she paused, “besides he is my squire and nothing more.”

“My lady, I have seen many squires on their knees in front of knights since I was old enough to ride a horse. Most perform any service needed for their knight,” he raised an eyebrow at her. At that proclamation, Brienne’s face turned bright red as she stared at Jamie. He swallowed and looked away, remembering himself as a young knight with some of his squires during long trips. You did what you did. Especially if you were missing a woman warming your bed and taking yourself in hand was getting tiresome. 

“When are you leaving?” he looked back at her, changing the subject.

“We are meeting someone here. Once he arrives, we will make our way up north to Winterfell.” 

He paused, looking into her eyes, “I am going with you.”

She started then and stared at him, “Do you have any idea what you're saying Ser Jaime?”

He leaned forward and put his hand over hers, “Lady Brienne, my sister does not intend to honor anything she told Snow and the Targaryen. The wights need to be stopped in the North. I also need to spread  the word of her betrayal.”

“Tyrion is with them.”

Jamie felt a slight squeeze on his heart,  _ what does Tyrion know? _ Even though there is no love lost between his sister and brother, he questioned how far Tyrion would go for family versus the realm versus all of humanity? 

  
  
  


**Sandor**

More buggering Bannermen? More challenges to his marriage, more challenges to his name, more challenges to his title. He was supposed to be training men. He was supposed to be keeping the North alive, but yet none of these fuckers could get over the fact that he used to be the Lannister’s dog. Today, the Glovers were arriving and Sansa had told him this was going to be the most difficult group. He decided instead of meeting them at the Great Hall he would meet them at the gate with soldiers from the other Bannermen that had accepted him. He didn't want his lady wife fighting his battles for him, he had to try this on his own. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he turned to his wife's still sleeping form and smiled. He had to think of excuses to offer the servants when they noticed the large crack at the top of their trunk. How was he to know it wouldn't support both their weights? He reached out and trailed his hand down her exposed arm and she shifted. He trailed his hand back up her arm across her neck to under her chin. At that, she opened her eyes and looked at him. She reached for him then and she traced his jawline. 

“Waking up next to you is the single greatest thing in my life,” she whispered. 

He leaned over and kissed her softly. She pressed back and her hand went into his hair. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “It's going to be a long day, My Lady.”

“Then I should enjoy my Lord husband before we are too tired at the end of the day,” her other hand rubbed his chest, her nails lightly scratching through the coarse hair. Within moments she was under him and he was pulling her shift up over her hips as she pushed her small clothes down. Once she was exposed, he made his way down the bed. “Where are you going?” her voice was puzzled.

“I want to break my fast,” he said, putting her calves over his shoulders. She gasped and stared at him but made no move to push away. He turned and kissed the inside of her knee and started making his way up her thigh. As he got closer he could smell her arousal and his cock protested. His pleasure was going to have to wait. He ran his cheek along the top of her thigh as he brought his hand to the other side,gently pushed her legs further apart. He kissed her then and ran his tongue in between her folds. Her low moan and tilt of her hips made him light-headed. He lapped and kissed her as she wiggled beneath him. He brought his thumb up and rubbed the small pearl of flesh as he all but feasted on her. Her moans turned into his name being drawn out in groans. Her knees began to hold him as she quivered slightly. The groans stopped and she started to pant, inhaling sharply. He drove his tongue in deeper and he could actually feel how she pulsed as she came undone. He glanced up and she was screaming into her closed fist. He could face anyone for the rest of his days for her. He was truly hers.


	24. More in the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More alliances are made...and a long lost companion is coming home.

**Arya**

She stood on the battlements, mouth agape. Sandor had gathered several Stark bannermen to ride to meet Lord Glover. She watched nervously, angry that her goodbrother insisted that he meet the men alone. “I can't hide behind skirts,” he rasped, “or needles.”

She understood, but she didn't like it. He knew nothing about Northern men and he was far from diplomatic. So she was surprised, shocked actually when she watched Sandor and Lord Glover meet face-to-face. She had no idea what they said to each other - only that she saw them lean forward, glasp each other’s arms in greeting, then ride together with both groups falling behind them, Stark banners raised. She tried to move as nonchalant as possible as she hurried to the main gate. When she entered the courtyard, Sansa was there to meet the arriving party. Arya stood next to her and glanced up to see the frown on her sister's face. “All is well, they are riding together,” she felt the exhale as Sansa relaxed slightly. Soon the two men entered the gates with several men behind them. They rode side by side and even though the situation was serious, she could have sworn she saw a slight smirk on Sandor’s face.

After greeting Sansa, Lord Glover told a tale of scouts seeing wights just south of the wall. Receiving ravens from Winterfell soon after only spurred them to prepare for travel faster.

“I would gladly have this man on our side. The tales of your ranging beyond the wall are already fodder for songs,” he clapped Sandor on the back.

“Buggering hells. Songs?” He tried to look disgusted, but there was just enough of a glint of pride in his eyes.

**Sansa**

She was relieved. The Glover's alliance without challenge was going to make things so much better. Constant justification only added stress to an already stressful situation. They had to unite to survive. She was pleased with the progress made so far. Everyone was being trained to fight to their best ability, the food stores were full and more provisions arrived with every group that came. Large tent cities were erected just west of Winterfell for the soldiers that wanted to stay there. If she judged by the singing that she heard late at night, she was pretty sure they had no problems with their accommodations. Walls around Winter town were fortified and more housing was being built to accommodate the influx of refugees. The North was going to fight and she had renewed confidence that they actually could win. She watched as Sandor went to the training yard with Lord Glover and some of his men. A warmth pooled in her belly and branched to her chest. It amazed her at how love could make one feel physically. Her desires shocked him time and time again. She stifled a snort of laughter in her throat as she thought of the flimsy nightclothes that she chose to wear of late and how his eyes widened every time her dress fell to the floor. She looked forward to their coupling, being with him melted her fear away. Her husband was a generous lover that could send her to the seven heavens with barely a brush of his fingertips.

“Sansa, are you feverish? You are flushed,” she looked down at her sister as she glared at her.

“N-no, just happy.”

“Happy? Your “happiness” is going to have me teaching a niece or nephew how to water dance in no time.”

“Arya!!” Sansa gasped. It was too late to argue. Arya walked toward the training yard, her shoulders shook with laughter.

**Sandor**

He made his way down into the heated baths. He enjoyed sparring with Glover and his men, but seven Hells he was sore now. As he drew closer, he heard low voices and stopped. He realized quickly that they were both male and sighed with relief. He never, ever wanted to walk in on Gilly or Arya...or Gilly and Sam for that matter. He walked in and saw Sam and Bran in the steaming water as they chatted. He cleared his throat, “Am I disturbing you?”

Sam smiled at him, “Not at all Lord Stark. I'm sure you'd enjoy a soak after sparring.”

“Aye, and call me Sandor for fuck's sake.”

Sam's smile was frozen on his face, “Alright. I brought some salts down yesterday for you and Arya to use. They are in the clay jar,“ he motioned to the wall, “they would work better in a tub, but I thought it would not hurt to try them here also.”

“Thanks,” he went to the side wall, stripped off his clothes and grabbed the jar. He sank into the hot water with a groan, dropped a handful of the salts into the water, and swirled the water around lazily with his foot as they dissolved. He sighed and leaned his head back. After a moment he felt eyes on him, “What?“ He asked, wearily.

“I'm sorry, Lor-Sandor, Bran was telling me the latest that he has seen in the Godswood,” Sam stammered. Sandor sat up and looked at Sam and Bran, “I see, but before Bran tells me the latest, I want to talk to you first Sam.”

“What about?”

“Have I ever mistreated you or hurt you unknowingly?”

“No…” Sam was confused.

“Has Gilly told you that I spoke to her about training for her and Little Sam?”

“Yes,” Sam answered.

“Did she say I scared her?”

“No, of course not! She was grateful as am I that you treat us so well.”

“So why are you afraid to speak to me? Why do you not look at me, stumble over your words?“ Sandor paused. Sam didn’t respond. _ Fuck. This is not going well, I made things worse.  _ “Jon is your brother, right?” At that, Sam nodded and smiled, so he continued, “Jon is my goodbrother, a good man. This family is better than my own.“ At that, he turned and looked at Bran, “You too.”

Bran let the corners of his mouth curl into a faint smile, “Agreed.”

“Do you understand Sam? It doesn’t take blood to be a family. You are my family.” He concluded gruffly, “So stop with the m’lord shite and look me in the fucking eye when we talk.”

Sam smiled widely and began to speak, but Sandor interrupted him, “Don’t you dare try to hug me, I’ll take back everything I said.” The three of them laughed, enjoying the moment of levity.

Soon after, Bran filled him in on the progress the wights were making. Sandor was glad those fuckers were slow, he didn’t want to deal with them anytime soon. He also learned that Brienne and her small band were at the Crossroads Inn.  _ One big happy family.  _ Part of him was nervous, he and Brienne only recently forged a tentative truce. How is she going to react to “Lord Stark”? And Jaime? He wanted to trust him, he would make a good ally. He promised Bran that he would go back to the tree again with him after supper. What could it hurt?

**Jaime**

_ Finally!  _ Jaime was relieved that the person Brienne and Pod were waiting for was riding up to the inn. He watched as the young man rode up, struggling to control a giant black horse. Jaime stared at it. He walked up with Brienne and Pod, the man's name was Gendry...he was barely a man. His face showed the naivety of someone that quite didn’t know how the world operated, but at the same time, there was a spark in those blue eyes.

“Jaime, this is Gendry,” Brienne started “He travelled north of the Wall with Jon and his party to capture the wight.”

Jaime stepped forward and extended his hand, “Jaime Lannister.” He smiled inwardly when he saw him start at the name, it was always amusing to see how people reacted to him. He walked up to the horse, “Where did you get him?”

“A merchant from White Harbor. Rumor has it he was an abandoned warhorse found in the Northwest Riverlands. He’s mean, I could barely control him.”

Jaime looked closer, “I know you,” he said to the horse. He turned to Pod, “Help me bring his head down. All of King Robert’s men had their horses branded with a small stag at the base of their right ear. We just need to move the bridle a bit to see.” After some coaxing and a few snaps too close to the face,  the horse’s head was brought down and Jaime smiled knowingly when he saw the crude stag. He rubbed the horse between the ears and looked at the other ear, some guards went as far as to make crude brands with their initials to make sure their horses stayed their horses. Even though no one would have dared take his horse, Jaime knew those letters would be there. The others were confused when he laughed out loud after looking at the left ear. 

“Let us make haste, Lady Brienne. The Hound is missing his horse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reunion that tugs in my heart will always be Sandor and Stranger. A reader's comments encouraged me to go for it. So I did! <3


	25. Attack in the Woods.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things do not go quite as planned.

**Jaime**

The next morning they set off. Gendry swapped horses with him, so now he sat atop Stranger. The stallion pinned his ears back and stomped the ground until Jaime used commands that were familiar from King’s Landing. He wouldn’t say the horse was kinder afterwards, but at least he knew he wouldn’t be killed by the beast. As the small party started to leave, a portly baker ran after Gendry with a large parcel. “Wolf bread for ‘Arry,” Jaime had no idea what the lad was saying, but Gendry turned Lannister red when he heard the name. The loaves were tucked into Gendry’s saddle bag and they set off again. If they made good time, they would be at Winterfell by nightfall the next night. The horses were well rested, a few lengths at a canter would not hurt. Jaime wanted to get there as soon as possible. Without the formal alliance being known, he knew he was in enemy territory. He already was wary of a few men that glared at him the night before and leered at Brienne. They had departed before the first light, but it left him feeling uneasy. He inquired about sending a raven to Lady Sansa with a note from Brienne, he didn’t know how well it would be received. He felt he had to do something, he hoped the raven made it to Winterfell in time. He was a lion in wolf territory now with no soldiers to back him up. Even Bronn had stayed in the south. When he galloped off from King’s Landing he was sure that he made the right choice. Now he wondered if he had made a mistake in his haste. 

After a few hours of riding, they were in the woods. The snowfall cloaked their surroundings in silence.  _ Too silent,  _ Jaime thought, he didn’t hear even a forest creature. Suddenly he heard the whoosh of feathers. But it wasn't a bird, an arrow shot out of nowhere and buried itself in Pod’s leg. 

“We are under attack!” Jaime drew his sword. “Steady Stranger, you know what to do,” he said in a low voice to the horse. Brienne drew Oathkeeper and spun around looking for their attackers. Pod was grimacing, but he too drew his sword. Gendry was unarmed,  _ buggering fool! Even the cart driver had steel!  _ Jaime had a feeling he knew the attackers. As he and Brienne flanked Gendry he shared his thoughts “It’s the men from last night. There are three of them. Two have bows, one only has a dagger from what I saw. Get your shields up.” He scanned the forest, they should be easy to spot - the trees were nearly bare and the backdrop was white. Suddenly he saw movement to his left, Stranger did too and Jamie barreled toward the man with the bow, poised to loose his arrow. His mount pivoted at the right moment and Jaime’s sword sliced the man's neck. Not before the arrow released, however. Another arrow flew past his shoulder, barely grazing Stranger’s ear and the horse nearly reared. “Steady boy...steady! Let’s go get him,” he pulled on the reins and Stranger wheeled around just in time to see Lady Brienne bearing down on the archer with a fury that he had never seen. Oathkeeper glinted in the low light filtered by the branches as it hit its mark. With haunting precision, Brienne had the archer on the ground, nearly split in two, the snow turning deep red around him. Jaime stared at Brienne in shock, her eyes were wide with anger. 

“They hit Pod,” the pain in her voice jolted Jaime. He knew they hit Pod, he was hit in the leg.  _ Why was she so frantic looking? _

They heard a crashing through the brush and Gendry appeared with the cart driver’s sword, it was bloody. “I got the other one,” he declared wiping the blade in the snow. 

“And the cart driver?” Jaime asked.

“Under the cart, hiding,” Gendry strode toward the path.

Jaime rode up next to Brienne, she was not speaking. “Brienne?”

“They hit Pod,” she repeated numbly.

_ What is wrong with her? It’s just the leg.  _ He reached over and took her reins to urge her horse to move with Stranger toward the path. They’ll patch up Pod’s leg and then they’ll -

That’s when he saw him. The arrow sticking through his neck, eyes still wide in shock but unseeing. The driver had begun digging a hole in the cold earth and Gendry was bringing an old blanket over to cover the body. Jaime got down from his horse and took the blanket, “I’ll do it, see if there is another shovel.” He covered Pod and tried his hardest to remember the words of the Seven. As he spoke softly, Brienne quietly come up next to him and joined him in saying the words. 

“He grew up within the walls of the Red Keep after my father had him sent there.” Jaime swallowed, “he was a good man.” Brienne didn’t say a word. Jaime put his hand on her arm, “He was a  _ better _ man because of you.” She still couldn’t look at him, but nodded. For the briefest of moments, her hand came up and ghosted over his. 

“I need a moment.”

Jaime took Stranger’s reins and walked away, he spotted a stream nearby and now was as good as a time than any to get a drink for his mount and for himself. 

 

**Sandor**

He entertained their new guests far too long after supper and didn’t go to the Godswood with Bran as promised. Even though he said it was no problem, there was a glint in Bran’s eyes. Not of anger, but of disappointment. Sandor was not sure what was worse. He vowed to get up extra early to escort Bran to the tree. It was still dark when the valet softly knocked on the chamber door, but he got up quietly and dressed. Bran was pleased to see him and sent a servant to build a small fire as before. It was crackling next to the weirwood tree when they arrived. Bran immediately put his hand to the tree and his eyes went white, Sandor shuddered, _ I am never going to get used to that.  _ He sat with his back to the tree and looked into the flames, relaxing his gaze as an image emerged. The vision was nearly clear and he swallowed.  _ Their _ path was still the same, Winterfall was their target. He closed his eyes and looked away for a moment. He knew what was coming next, he had to try to see further. He was just about to look again when he heard a gasp. 

“Podrick Payne, Lady Brienne’s squire is dead,” Bran stated when his eyes came into focus, “they should be here tomorrow after supper if they keep the pace that they have.”

“Dead? What the fuck happened?”

“They were attacked just north of the inn. The attackers are dead.”

“Fuck,” He looked at Bran and his eyes were white again.  _ And they say I’m cold.  _ Sandor shook his head slightly, turned back to the flames and laid one hand on the bark of the tree. As he stared he pushed the visions out and tried to see more. Yet again the fire raged and his chest tightened so hard that it hurt to breathe. He felt hands then, but not on his body - in his mind and they pushed him hard. He was back and blinking rapidly. 

“You were panicking,” Bran said. 

Sandor whipped around to stare at him, “You? You pushed me?” 

Bran nodded to Sandor’s hand on the tree and then looked at his own hand also on the tree. “I could feel you, I saw the flames. You couldn’t get out of the vision.”

“Bran,” Sandor swallowed, “Thank you.”

Bran nodded, “Let’s go back, I saw some landmarks and want to figure out the distance. They are close, goodbrother.” Sandor stood and brushed the snow off of his cloak and started pushed Bran toward the Maester’s tower. “Sandor? You do not need to look any more. Train the men.”

Sandor nodded, “Aye.”

 

**Sansa**

When she woke she noticed that her husband’s side of the bed was empty. She was not surprised, Sandor grumbled the night before that he was supposed to accompany Bran to the weirwood tree and was unable to; she smiled as she thought of how he always did his best to keep his promises. She broke her fast in their room and got dressed. Sansa had moved to the solar and was looking over several ledgers when Sandor came into the room. She stood as he approached and he immediately put his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. 

“My love?” This was not like him, he was holding her like she would disappear.

He finally let go, “I need to get my boiled leather for sparring with the men.”

“Were you with Bran?” He nodded his answer, “Sandor, did something happen?”

He sat on her desk and told her about Pod and that the wights were getting closer. He paused, “I got trapped when I pushed the visions to see further. Bran found me and saved me.”

“Found you?”

“It was like he was in my head with me, he pushed me and I came back.”

Sansa hand flew up to her mouth as she gasped, “Sandor!”

“I'm alright, but Bran suggested I stop trying to read the future and to stick to training.” He looked dejected.

“Bran is right, your visions have done so much for us already. Now we have to be prepared to fight what you have seen.”

Arms went around her once more, “I don't know how I have come to deserve you or the trust of your family.” 

She pulled back, “Wolves and dogs, we were meant to be.” She kissed him then and she could not get enough of him. She pushed back slightly as she felt the familiar dampness in her smallclothes. “M’lord you should get down to the training yard. Perhaps I will have need of your council after the midday meal.” 

At that, his eyes darkened “Yes, m'lady.”  
  



	26. Destiny in His Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya argues with herself, Sandor bonds more.

**Arya**

_ The Hound was going to buggering kill everyone before the wights ever got to them.  _ She wiped the sweat from her face as she instructed a group of women to attack a dummy with their dragonglass daggers. The women were fierce, the thought of their families being threatened turned them into warriors for the living. Sandor sparred hard with the men, it was almost like desperation as he pounded into them screaming that the wights don’t tire. “Don’t give up! Don’t fall! Watch for your partner!” he screamed over and over again. She walked over to him and signaled a break.

Once he stopped, she joined him and growled low, “You are exhausting them, Dog.”

“They have no idea what exhaustion is, Wolf,” he growled back. She was about to snap back when she saw it, a brief glint of fear.

“What happened?” she tried to soften her voice.

“They are closer, much closer,” he looked at the men, “no more looking in the flames for me. Training is what I must do now.”

“Brienne, Gendry, and Jaime will be a great asset, if you include the men that have been training since the dragonglass arrived - everyone will get trained,” she paused, looking at him “the Night King will not win, Sandor.” They nodded to each other and went back to training. Ayra noticed that Sandor was calmer when she looked back at him later. She let her mind drift for a moment, _it will be good to have Brienne back_. Her tummy flipped when she thought of Gendry returning and her cheeks heated slightly. _Was Sansa right? Should I take what I want? Her sister certainly did. Would he want to take me?_ _Things were so different now,_ she growled to herself, _and the fucking kingslayer was with them._ Bran made her promise she would not start trouble. It was going to be difficult, she had to remind herself that he had paid a steep price. _You forgave The Hound._ “Shut up,” she mumbled to herself. _You would die for your goodbrother now, surely you can forgive Jaime._ She picked up a dagger and attacked the dummy, trying to quiet the voice in her head that she knew was right.

 

**Sandor**

As the sun moved overhead, he stopped the training for the midday break. He all but dunked his head in a barrel of water to cool himself and shook his head like his namesake. “I will be taking a private meal with Sansa…” he started to tell Arya.

“Wonderful idea! I’ll get Bran and join you!”

He glared at her,  _ what part of private did she not understand? _ He wanted his wife and there was a chair he wanted to test out that he was sure could take both their weight in the sitting room. Before he could tell her to bugger off, she was gone.  _ Bloody hell!  _ As he made his way up to their shared chambers, he thought to bolt the door once he was with Sansa.  _ Arya would probably break through the window,  _ he rolled his eyes to himself. He hurried in and shut the door.

“Sandor! What -,” her words were cut off as he pulled her to him. His lips devoured her mouth as he pushed her against the wall. After a moment, she was able to gasp for air. “My love! Why the rush?”

“Your sister,” he kissed her, “is coming,” he nibbled her ear, “with Bran,” he licked her neck, “to dine with us.”

Sansa groaned, “Bugger that.”

He pulled away, “What?!” he said, laughing.

She raised an eyebrow, “I want my husband to myself. I -” she was interrupted by a pounding on the door.

Sandor groaned and went to the door, “Go away!” he growled.

“I have your trays, m’lord!” Gilly called. He opened the door and ushered her in.

As he was about to close it, Arya pushed in with Bran, “Extra is coming. Gilly, stay. Sam is coming too.” Sandor glared at Arya. She ignored him and went to drag chairs to the table.

“I’d love to stay, but I can’t,” Gilly replied, “have Sam find me after he eats.” Sandor smiled at her,  _ she understands _ . He knew it was better not to argue. He nodded to Sansa and they sat at the table. He’ll have her tonight. Twice. Sam came in next, hefting a giant package wrapped in cloth. Sandor rubbed his face,  _ now what?  _ Sam left the package in the corner and joined the group.

“Anyone else coming?” Sandor grumbled flippantly, reaching for bread.

“No.” Arya replied, “stop being a bear.”

“Fine. Hello Sam,” he smiled thinly, “what in seven hells did you drag to our chambers?”

“It’s for you,” Sam smiled at him. 

Sandor was surprised, “For me?” he looked at Sansa, she looked just as clueless. So did Arya.  Bran knew everything, so he wasn’t even going to dare look at him.

“For you.” Sam’s smile was bigger as he started eating.

Thankfully, the conversation was light but Sandor kept glancing over to the corner, his curiosity tugging at him. After they ate, Sam asked for him to sit in the big chair by the fireplace.

Sandor sat with Sansa, Arya, and Bran nearby, as Sam stood in front of him. “The other night, you mentioned family. That I was your family.” 

“Aye, you are.”

Sam’s smile wavered, “All I have ever wanted was a family. I was not good enough for mine.  Then I found my brothers of the Night’s Watch, Jon, Gilly, little Sam, the Starks and now you.”

He moved to the bundle and brought it in front of Sandor, “I knew that when the right person came, it would know. “

Sandor was puzzled as he watched Sam unwrap the cloth, “‘It’ would know? What is ‘it’?”

The cloth finally fell away and there was an audible gasp from the group, “Heartsbane. Heartsbane knew you are the right man to wield it.”

Sandor was speechless. That was a Valyrian steel greatsword. “Sam…”

“This sword was the Tarly sword.  I am the last man of House Tarly. I am not a warrior, but you are, Sandor. I want you to have it.”

Arya jumped up, “You always wanted Valyrian steel!”

Sansa stared at it, “It’s beautiful.” She was right, it was sharpened and polished to a blinding gleam. 

Sandor looked from the sword to Sam as he stood. “Sam,” he paused “it would be my honor to accept your gift.” Sam clasped his hand, smiling widely. They nodded to each other and Sandor allowed a smile to break across his face.  _ Valyrian steel! _ Sam reached into his bag and pulled out a stand and placed Heartsbane in it.  

Sandor turned to Ayra and growled, “And I didn’t name it, it came with a name. So don’t even start!”

Ayra stifled a laugh, “Heartsbane is perfect!”

 

Arya, Sam, and Bran left soon after. Sandor knew he had to get back to the training yard, but he sat for a moment and stared at Heartsbane. He didn't know how to feel. For so long, the concept of family was foreign to him. Now he was surrounded by kin that was not even his blood that loved him more than anyone that he could clearly remember. He pushed himself off his chair and turned to look at his wife pouring over scrolls from various ravens. 

His wife, his little bird, his wolf...his. She looked up, caught his eyes and smiled. “I love you,” he declared.

“As I love you,” she replied. 

“I'll see you at supper.”

“I miss you already,” she winked.

_ Gods, she's perfect. _

  
  
  
  
  



	27. Being in a Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night time comes.

**Sansa**

After supper, Sansa had the largest tub brought to the room. When Sandor walked in, it was full and steaming. “Your bath awaits, my Lord husband.” The door was bolted and clothes were shed faster than she had ever seen. She marveled at his strong body in the firelight as each piece of clothing hit the floor of their chamber. She dropped her robe as he was getting into the water to reveal a silken shift. 

He sat back with his arms on the sides of the tub and smiled, “You forgot to wear smallclothes, my lady wife.”

She knelt behind him and put her arms over his shoulders as she buried her hands into the hair on his chest, “I didn't forget.” She kissed his shoulder and ran her tongue up his neck to his ear. He shuddered as she sucked on his earlobe. 

The water sloshed as he turned, “I'm going to pull you in here with me if you continue.”

She kissed him hard on the mouth, pulling his lip in between her teeth, “that won't be necessary, now turn around so I can wash your hair.” When he complied, she washed, oiled and quickly tied it into a low ponytail with a thin strip of leather. He turned and looked at her, slightly surprised. That look coupled with his hair pulled back ignited a heat that made her core ache. 

She stood and went to the side of the tub facing him. Before he could say a word she stepped in, her feet now on either side of his thighs. She lifted her shift up to her waist and straddled his lap. Water splashed over the edge, they ignored it. She lifted as she gripped the tub behind him with one hand. His eyes widened as she sunk down, engulfing him in her slick heat. 

“Always so ready for me. Do I please you so much?”

“More than you'll ever know, and I plan I trying to convince you for the rest of our lives.” She began by grounding into him, rocking her hips. It did not take long for him to angle himself and thrust into her.  _ Our bodies are like one,  _ she marveled. They moved together effortlessly. His hands were at her sides as his thumbs brushed over her nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her body. They peaked nearly at the same time, their bodies pulsing against each other as they cried out in unison. Soon all that was heard in the chamber was panting and water dripping onto the floor. 

 

**Jaime**

He did his best to give Brienne her space as they rode North. She sullenly ate her meals and answered him and Gendry with as few words as possible. He chatted as much as he could with Gendry, but he didn't say much either. The cart driver was good for a few songs to pass the time, but he too was not a conversationalist. They made camp as night began to fall. Gendry took off to set snares and try his hunting skills. Jaime sat next to Brienne on a fallen log near the fire and offered her some smoked meat and cheese from the inn.

“My lady, please talk to me,” He bent his head to try to catch her eye. 

She turned away from him, “There is nothing to say.”

He brought his hand up then and put it on her shoulder, “That is a lie. There is much to say. Remember the baths so long ago? I poured my heart out that night. In fact, you have always listened. You have also told me the truth. Your truth is what brought me after you. Your truth is what lured me to your side, to fight alongside you. Please don't push me away.”

She turned then, “I failed. Pod is dead because I was arrogant enough to try to train him myself. Arya is alive only through her own determination and strength, her sister too.”

“You are a fierce warrior and trainer, Brienne. Many men I have trained died - not because I failed them though. Why were you in King's Landing? Because you represent the Starks - they have not dismissed you. Do not dismiss yourself. You told me yourself that The Hound acknowledges that you bested him, if you've known Clegane for as long as I have, not many people have that honor.”

She smiled slightly at that, “I did. Didn't I? Talking to him and seeing his reaction going to the Dragon Pits, I understand now why he fought so hard for Arya. They had become a pack. I don't know if even  _ they _ knew it at the time. But I understand when Sansa and Arya declare the pack survives.”

Jaime felt a wave of regret, “I’ll never be a part of a pack, but I can at least fight on the right side of this war.” 

He felt a hand cover his, “Jaime.” She was so close, he began to lean slightly -

Just then Gendry crashed into the clearing, holding a string of three hares. “The snares were triggered almost immediately, fresh meat tonight over the fire!” Brienne sprung away from Jaime and began fussing over the hares, preparing them to be put on a spit. Though he appreciated Gendry, he certainly hated the lads knack of having the worst timing in the seven kingdoms. He grumbled and stoked the fire to ready it for their prized meal. 

That night, Brienne sat up against the tree and volunteered to take the first watch. Jaime smoothed out his bedroll as close to her as he could. Gendry was on the other side of the clearing by the driver, the cart and horses. Before long snores could be heard from both men. Brienne was sharpening a dagger. Sitting up, Jaime looked over at her. 

“Go to sleep, Sir Jaime.” She chided, “Your watch is in a few hours.” She put down the whetstone and gazed up to the stars. 

He scooted closer to her and laid down again, this time reaching out to put his hand over hers again. He felt her circle her fingers around his just as sleep overtook him.


	28. Stranger in the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More come home to Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for one reunion in particular. I make no apologies.

**Jaime**

The next morning Brienne was in a better mood. Her hand was still in his when he was woken up to take his watch. When Gendry relieved him a few hours later, she didn’t bat him away when he laid right next to her. Was it due to the extra warmth or companionship? He didn’t know and was happy to take any scrap of attention she threw his way. When did he become so needy?  _ Was I always this way?  _ That was the least of his issues, he had a nagging feeling about Gendry. That boy looked so familiar to him even though he was sure he had never met him before. They were making great time, he and Brienne were certain that they would make it before the sun set. He rode up to Gendry, “So you know Arya?” 

“Yes, we travelled together briefly.” Gendry offered no other insight. Jamie was all but desperate for small talk, “are you anxious to see her? I'm sure she is quite the young woman now.”

Brienne cut-in, “Oh she is. Quite the warrior. Sansa too, the perfect wardeness of the North.”

At that, Jaime paused “She could have me locked away.”

“She won't,” Brienne stopped next to him, “I won't let them.”

At that Jaime smiled, “You'll protect me, Lady Brienne?”

She smiled back and his mood lifted instantly, “Of course, Ser Jaime - though I do not think that will be necessary.”

As they got closer to Winterfell the cart driver asked if he might go ahead to his family's cottage outside of Winter Town. Their supplies for the journey were nearly gone, so they agreed to part ways and allowed him to keep the wagon, including the horse since it was only good for pulling. After a late-afternoon meal, they said their goodbyes and the three of them kept due north to Winterfell.

 

**Ayra**

She left training early to talk to Sansa and to ready herself for the arrival of their guests. She hated that she was nervous. As she made her way to see Sansa she replayed the conservations she had with Gendry. It seemed so long ago. Then she remembered what The Hound said about Gendry during their time together beyond the Wall. He was a Baratheon bastard, Sandor told her to keep it to herself for now, so as not to endanger him. _Did Jaime know this?_ _How did life get so complex?_ She knocked on the door.

Some time later she was back in her chambers soaking in a steaming tub. She sniffed the air, there was a slight scent of roses coming up with the steam. Arya rolled her eyes, Sansa insisted on a bath, fresh clothes AND some braids in her hair. “Gendry expects to see a lady warrior, please let some of the lady show through.” Arya agreed to a point...no jewels, no colours painted on her face and no flower adornments. She sniffed the air again,  _ at least the rose was not overpowering.  _

During supper, a scout came into the Hall to announce that three riders were approaching. Arya glanced at Sansa. Her sister nodded slightly and got up. Sandor and Arya stood too and the three of them walked calmly from the hall. As soon as they turned the corner, Arya quickened her step.

“The wolf is excited!” Sandor japed.

“Shut your hole,” She snapped back. 

“Stop now or I will throw you both from the battlement,” Sansa tried not to laugh.

They stood and watched as three riders in the distance drew nearer. She recognized Brienne's blonde hair and height first, then the black hair of Gendry and the short cropped hair of — she gasped. “Sandor!”

“What?”

“The Kingslayer’s mount…”

“What?”

“Look at him, you ass!”

 

**Sandor**

He spent the late afternoon with Sam and Gilly readying rooms like a Steward. Sansa wanted to make sure the chambers assigned to their impending guests were just right. Sandor had rolled his eyes, “We are going to war with the undead. No one is going to compare room sizes.” But he helped anyway.  _ I am getting soft.  _ At supper, he kept his comments to himself about Arya’s appearance. He learned his lesson at his wedding, all he needed to do was smile at her and drop it. He also tried to remind Arya that Jaime was coming to fight with them, that he was the one that worked with Brienne to bring them home, no matter the motivation. Sandor knew he was a poor diplomat, but he tried anyway.

Now he stood with Arya and she was stabbing him in the side with her finger carrying on about a horse? Not Jaime, Not Gendry...a damn horse. He sighed and shielded his eyes to get a better look. 

_ Seven Hells...that is a big, black - no. It couldn't be.  _

He looked at Arya, eyes wide. She looked just as shocked. “Could it be? Sandor?” she questioned him.

“How could it be?” He looked again as the group got closer. The horse danced sideways, spooking at seemingly nothing. His heart jumped to his throat, “Stranger!” He pushed away from the wall and walked as quickly as he could down the steps to the gate. _Stranger._ He heard footsteps as his companions hurried to keep up. _Stranger._ He glanced behind him to see Arya on his heels and Sansa right behind her. His eyes started to burn slightly, _for fuck’s sake don't start._ He laughed then, _Stranger!!_ He strode through the courtyard and passed Bran and the others as they waited as a receiving party. Finally, he reached the gate and stood, waiting. He raised a hand and pointed at Jaimie. Jaime spurred the horse into a canter and Sandor walked out toward him. _It_ _was_ _Stranger!_

Jaime drew up and stopped, “Hound.” 

“Get off my horse.”

Jaime laughed as he swung off, “Brienne didn't believe me when I told her those would be your first words.”

“You know me well.” Sandor took the reins and stepped up to his horse. “Let me take you home, boy.” His voice was thicker than he wanted. He wrapped his arm around the crest of the horse’s neck and rested his forehead on his cheek. He smelled so good. Stranger leaned into him slightly and snorted.  _ You are never leaving me again. _

 


	29. Gathering in the Courtyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All together now!

**Sansa**

She stood, confused at the sight before her. Jaime dismounted a massive black horse and her husband was all but nuzzling it. Meanwhile, Arya was steps behind him and looked nearly giddy. No one paid any mind to Jaime or to Brienne and Gendry as they came closer on their mounts. Sansa cleared her throat, “My Lord….?”

Sandor turned, smiling “It's Stranger, my horse from King Robert. My horse that carried me and your sister through the Seven Hells. My horse that I thought was lost to me...Stranger.” He moved enough for Arya to rub the beast's shoulder.

Sansa vaguely remembered the giant black horse that looked like he'd bite fingers off. The joy that radiated off Sandor and her sister was contagious and she smiled widely, “Even more to celebrate!”

The others rode up and Arya stiffened.  _ So this is Gendry... handsome. _ He stared at Arya as her poor sister looked at his knees instead of up at his face.

“My lady,” he smiled.

A hand flashed out and slapped his leg, “I told you…”

He grinned, “And _ I _ told  _ you. _ ”

Sansa glanced at Sandor and he rolled his eyes, trying to hide a grin,  _ they are in love - time changed nothing. _

She turned towards Jamie and swallowed hard. She tried to remember the things that Brienne had told her, she tried to remember that she was the warden of the north and he was coming to fight alongside the Northerners. It was difficult, and her smile wavered. 

“Ser Jaime.” 

“My lady,” he glanced at her, then to Brienne, and settled back to her, “I have come to join you, to join the cause. Jon convinced me in King's Landing. My sister though, she is lost - she has other ideas.”

Sandor stood by her side as she answered, “Are you saying you swear fealty to the North? To House Stark?” 

Jaime nodded, “I am at your service, I fight for the living.”

Sansa looked up at Brienne, still on her horse, “Lady Brienne, do you believe in Ser Jaime?”

“Just as much as you believe in Sandor Clegane,” Brienne looked at her pointedly. 

“Well played,” she turned to Jaime, “Welcome to Winterfell, Ser Jaime.” 

Just then there was a blur of brown as Arya stepped in front of her. “Jaime...Lannister...Kingslayer...boy pusher. I don't like you. I don't trust you. The moment you even have a thought to cross us, it will be the last thing you think of.”

Jaime started to smirk and then grew serious, “I would expect no less, Lady Arya.”

 

**Jaime**

Sansa was a different woman. Poised and confident. Ayra was not the child he barely remembered. She threatened him and he believed that threat. Brienne told him  everything she could about what to expect, but he was still surprised.  _ Cersei underestimated the Stark family, Tyrion was right. Tyrion was right all along.  _ He glanced at Sandor standing next to Sansa. He was confused, he knew The Hound joined Jon and assumed he would be with him and the Targaryen. Maybe he was a sworn shield?  _ He looks downright possessive of Sansa. Poor girl probably can't have any fun was him hovering about.  _

They walked toward the gate and soon a boy ran toward Sandor and Stranger, “Lord Stark, shall I take your horse?”

Sandor shook his head, “Aye Toebi. Prepare your largest stall and ensure there is fresh water and hay. Also, have stalls readied for the other two horses.” The boy nodded and led Stranger away. Brienne and Gendry dismounted and walked toward the keep.  

Jaime was frozen in place.  _ Lord Stark?! Lord STARK?! “ _ Did that boy call you Lord Stark?” He glanced at Brienne and her face was white.

Sansa coughed, “Let's go to the Great Hall to discuss recent events and catch up. Shall we?” Jaime could only nod while Brienne looked horrified. Gendry was absolutely clueless and could not keep his eyes off Arya. 

As they entered the courtyard, Jaime paused. So long ago, he entered Winterfell as an arrogant guard with a king he no longer respected and a family that was now lost to him. Only Sandor remained from that travelling party. And only three Starks remained; one he crippled, one his family tortured and one that was driven away. He closed his eyes briefly and strode toward the boy in the wheelchair. The point of his sword went into the dirt and Jaime fell to one knee, he looked to the ground. “Lord Stark…”

“Ser Jaime, please stand.” Bran’s voice drifted serenely through the air. Jaime stood, still keeping his sword in the dirt and Bran continued, “you and I have lost much, of ourselves and our family. I hold no blame as I hope you no longer hold regret. Now, please join us as we welcome you, Brienne and Gendry home.”

 

**Arya**

She stood between Sansa and Sandor as Jaime kneeled and then rose in front of Bran.  _ Bran is at peace with this.  _ She swallowed the shrinking swirl of anger,  _ there was always the training yard.  _ Brienne and Gendry were preparing to hand their horses off to the stable hands and removing their packs. Some members of the household staff were approaching to escort the new guests to their quarters. She pushed down the fluttering in her gut and turned to Gendry, “I can show you where you are staying,” she nearly shouted. She lowered her voice, “If you’d like?”

“I would,” he started rifling through a pack then, pulling out a cloth bundle. “I have something for you.”

She unwrapped it and laughed at the bread, “Hotpie.”

“Exactly, especially for ‘Arry.”

“There is enough here to share…”

“I’d be happy to - that is, if you are asking.”

“I am.” She noticed he offered his arm, so she took it and started to lead him to the tower where his room was.

As they walked, he told her about how Stranger was found. He also told of his time with Jon.

Arya stopped Genry’s movement with a gentle pull, “There is so much to catch up on - for you and me. Can I just say that I am glad that you are here?” Gendry remained silent, nodding in response, as he pulled her just a little closer.

 

**Sandor**

He watched as Arya led Gendry away. He turned and saw Jaime being escorted by a steward.  Brienne lingered for a moment and started to make way to her quarters. From a distance, she stopped suddenly and turned toward him, eyes narrowed. “Lady Brienne is not pleased,” he said in a low voice to his wife.

“She’ll be fine. I will talk to her,” Sansa replied, as she tugged his arm. He noticed she tugged toward the stables. They walked there together and he walked in, straight to the largest stall.

His eyes burned again, “I never thought I’d see him again. I still have his brush.”

“Shall I tell the others when we meet later that you had a more pressing engagement?” 

He looked down into his wife’s laughing eyes, “No, but I have half a mind to do it now.” He reached in and rubbed Stranger’s withers. “I’ll tend to you tomorrow with a brush and apples.”  The horse snorted and rubbed his muzzle along Sandor’s arm, leaving a trail of dusty snot. “Fucking horse,” Sandor laughed. 

That night they all sat in The Great Hall and told of news, travels and tales. Due to Bran, they already knew some of what was shared, without letting on. Nothing was said of Gendry’s paternity, Sandor was sure that Jaime remained clueless. They mainly spoke of things happening in the South and what was going to be happening soon in the North. When everyone retired to their rooms, Jaime lingered. 

“More wine?” Sandor motioned to the goblet. Jaime nodded.

“So you renounced your name and became a Stark…” he began.  

Sandor held up his hand, “You saw one wight - I saw thousands. Including a giant undead snow bear that nearly had me for supper. Besides, the Clegane name is cursed. Nothing good has come from being a Clegane, but plenty of good can be done as a Stark.”

“Good can still be done by a Lannister, Tyrion is proving that. I hope, that maybe...I can too.”

He was shocked at hearing those words, Jaime has always been arrogant; standing upon his name and looking down at others. He raised his cup, “May we break the chains of King’s Landing.”  

Jaime raised an eyebrow, “And may I find the love you have.”

Sandor smiled into his cup, _ oh Ser Jaime, you have. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting of new chapters may be spotty for a few, my wonderful beta is preparing to go out of town and then I'll be heading out myself. <3


	30. In Sam's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam notices more than people think.

**Sam**

Hardly anyone noticed a steward. Even one that was acting as the head of the household staff. Sam and Gilly made it a habit to stay out of everyone's way and after a while, folks just don't notice you anymore. He would not have it any other way, he had time for reading when his duties were finished and Gilly used her free time to spend with little Sam. Sam smiled as he went on his way throughout the day thinking about the residents of Winterfell. He was used to seeing moments between Sansa and Sandor - a brush of the hand, a slight leaning towards one another, whispers and stifled chuckles - the love shown between them filled Sam's heart. Now with the arrival of the party of the south, Sam felt like he was going to burst. Arya and the young man named Gendry were nearly inseparable outside of their duties. She trained every able-bodied person within Winterfell. He assisted in the forge, nearly all of the dragonglass Jon brought was fitted into a usable weapon within no time. But during meals and at dusk was when Sam starting really noticing their affections, hands nearly always touching, hushed voices, lowered heads and blushes on Arya that Sam had never seen before. Gilly told him just the other night she swore she saw Gendry in the hall outside Arya’s chambers around the hour of the bat. He laughed, but he saw excitement in Gilly’s eyes, not gossip - she too saw what was happening within the walls of Winterfell. He nearly missed the interactions between Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime, he was so taken by Arya and Gendry. They trained together, ate together and took long walks through the Godswood together. There was also the incident when Gilly and Sam decided to go to the baths and nearly walked in on the two in a watery embrace. Jaime was contemplative, yet determined, to ready any and all fighters for what was to come. Between Jaime, Brienne, Arya, and Sandor - the new Northern army could face any threat. Be it a threat from the south, the east, dead or alive, the north would not go easily.  _ Sandor,  _ Sam smiled and shook his head. Sandor loved fiercely whether it was Sansa, his good sister, old comrades such as Jaime or new ones such as Brienne. Even Sam. Sandor always knew when Sam and Gilly were in the room - they were family. If not a word of greeting, at the very least a nod or half smile. Though he left the visions to Bran, Sandor also made sure to take time out of his morning to check on him as he sat next to the Weirwood tree for hours on end. Who would have thought that the gruff, foul-mouthed, man had a heart of gold? He was convinced that Sandor actually had the heart the size of an aurochs’, but knowing that his temper leaned toward that of a basilisk, Sam never told him. He was shaken from his thoughts as the object that was currently on his mind approached from the Godswood.

“Sam,” he said a bit breathlessly, “is Lady Stark in her chambers?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“I’m headed there now, could you gather Arya, Brienne, and Jaime and meet me there? I have a message from Bran.”

“Me too?”

“You too.” 

 

Soon everyone was in the solar, looking at Sandor. “They are here,” he rasped.

Arya stepped forward, eyes narrowing, “the wights?”

“Aye. They are just beyond our outer perimeter of Winter Town. It’s time.”

“Why wouldn’t our scouts have warned -” Brienne was cut off by the sound of three blasts of a horn.

“Bran’s sight was able to give us whole moment’s notice before our own scouts did,” Sandor grumbled. Sam felt bad, he knew that Sandor’s recent failure in reading the future in the flames bothered him.

Sansa straightened her back and put her hands on the table in front of her, “This is what we have been training for, everyone knows what to do. Brienne, Jaime, you take your men to the edge of Winter Town. Make sure the fires are lit. Arya, you take your men just outside of Winterfell and secure your perimeter. Gendry, make sure the weapons are going to the right places and take up your own arms to join Arya. Sandor, you are in command of the men here. Winterfell will not be taken. Gilly, make sure the women are prepared and armed. Sam, send the ravens we have prepared."

Sam swallowed, "When Bran and I looked at the maps a few days ago, I sent to ravens to Jon. Perhaps they will reach him in time so we have dragon fire on our side."

Sansa smiled at Sam and then she looked at Sandor, “I trust that Bran is safe in the keep?” He nodded.

Just then Gendry stepped forward, “My Lady. Clegane and I have a weapon for the blue-eyed dragon. They are spears with long dragonglass blades. A catapult has been modified to fire them if needed. Sansa nodded at him and glanced at Sandor, “thank you, my Lords."

Silence filled the room as the group looked at each other. Sansa clasped Arya’s hands then and soon there were brief hugs and good-byes. 

“Until we meet again,” Jaime said gruffly.

The people began to file from the room and Sam's chest began to tighten, he may never see some of them again.

 

**Sansa**

Before going out the door, Arya whipped around and looked at her. “Sansa did you tell Sandor about...”

“Arya. Just go. Time is not on our side.” She huffed, her sister really did not have the best timing for anything. Soon her chambers were empty. She took a deep breath and followed, closing the door behind her. Before she even was able to take a step after them, she was pulled around the corner. Soon she was pinned against the wall by her husband.

“Sandor!”

“This will be the last time we are alone for a while.” He looked at her, eyes dark.

She gasped as his hands pushed her skirts up. Sansa threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. She nuzzled him as he pushed her small clothes down. When she heard his sword belt clatter to the floor, she moaned and bit his ear.

“Gods be good, Sandor.” Her worry was replaced by desire and she rubbed against him. Soon his hands were at her waist and she was lifted against the stones. Moments later he buried himself into her heat. His mouth met hers and she kissed him deeply as he thrust into her. She hooked her ankles around him as best she could and tilted her hips to meet his thrusts.

“I love you,” he whispered into her mouth. 

Her hands went to his cheeks and she held him as they fell into a rhythm. She felt the curl of heat build and she began to pant. They seemingly shared their breath - mouths open, nose to nose, staring deep into each other's eyes. She knew then she would love him until the end of her days, whether their souls went through the seven hells or the seven heavens...she knew she would love him there too. Her climax slammed into her and she cried out, wrapping her arms around him. She never wanted to let go. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate when writers apologize. But now I know why, so let me say it: I'm sorry it took so long to update this. I truly didn't think my muse would roundhouse kick this story into the dark corner of my mind. So forgive me, and enjoy.


	31. Going Into The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winterfell prepares for battle.

**Sandor**

It was eerily quiet in the courtyard, as though the residents were collectively holding their breath. He watched Brienne and Jaime ride off with their squad and silently wished them well. He pushed away the anxiety he felt about them. Jaime is more than capable and Brienne, there is no woman tougher with a sword. Arya was with Lyanna Mormont and their group was about to leave to fortify Wintertown. For a moment she looked up and caught his eye - she smiled at him and he found himself smiling back, just before she disappeared through the gates.  _ Years ago she wanted to put Needle through my eye, now we smile at each other.  _ There was a movement to his right and he turned to see Gendry approaching, “Ready?”

“Yes, let’s get that fucking dragon killer set up.”

Gendry's eyes widened a little at the bluntness of the words and then he laughed. They made their way to the courtyard and crossed to the area where the weapon was covered in burlap. They hauled it out and with a few remaining Karstark men, then readied it. After a while, Sandor noticed Gendry looking at the gate toward Wintertown. “Go, be with her,” Sandor pushed his shoulder, “we’ll be alright here.”

“Thank you,” within moments, Gendry was gone.

Sander made his rounds, talking to the men that were part of the contingent defending Winterfell. He avoided the bonfire as best he could. The heat alone set his nerves on edge.  _ There are bigger things to be frightened of, don't be a nancy.  _ Out of the corner of his eye,  he saw Sansa on the battlements talking to a group of soldiers and Maester Wolken. He watched for a moment and saw her hands flutter to her belly.  _ She's been doing that a lot lately, I hope the stress isn't affecting her.  _ He thought of her pushing food around her plate lately and her restlessness while they slept. Illness would be a horrible blow during a battle of this magnitude. He remembered hearing her gagging in their adjoining room while he got dressed a few mornings ago. Sandor looked to Sansa and Wolken again hoping to gesture to the Maester. They didn't pay him any mind. He watched and narrowed his eyes in confusion as they smiled at each other and went their separate ways. He stared at her disappearing form, relieved that he was seemingly worried for nothing.  _ Bugger me I'm like a mother hen with the Starks - _ he gasped and spun around to look at the empty battlement as excitement started to bloom through his chest. He shook his head  _ don't get ahead of yourself dog.  _

 

**Jaime**

Jamie stared ahead of him with determination as his horse raced towards their fortification point. Brienne was half a beat behind him and the men they led were close behind her. He had no fear, he's led a vanguard before - he'd faced so much: men, unsullied, mad kings, mad queens. These undead things could be stopped, Jon demonstrated as much in King's Landing.  Every capable living man, woman, and child was armed with a dragon glass weapon, there was a fighting chance to come out of this victorious. Part of him hoped this victory would erase the title of Kingslayer once and for all. It never used to bother him, but now that he was in the North with Brienne by his side, he wanted redemption. It was cold, the rushing wind on his face was bitter and made his eyes water. He was thankful at that moment for the fur-lined armor. Up ahead he saw the crag and he signaled for the men behind him to stop. As the sound of the thundering hooves slowed and became silent, he and Brienne made their way cautiously to the edge. The air was thick with anticipation and even though complete silence was impossible, Jamie heard nothing but his own heart beating in his ears. He stopped his mount and reached his hand out to clasp Brienne's. When he felt her warm fingers encircle his, they both looked out over the expanse of land that lay below them. Thousands upon thousands of silent gray forms slowly shuffled in unison towards them. It was as if they stretched back to the horizon. 

Brienne’s grip tightened and he attempted  to give her hand a reassuring squeeze, “Holy shit.”

Jaimie swallowed hard and leaned toward her, “Are you ready, my lady?”

He closed his eyes as she leaned and touched her forehead to his, “Always.”

“Let’s go.” With that, he raised his arm and he heard the commands to move forward make their way through the men behind him as they made their way down the path to the dead.

 


	32. Chaos in the Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this fic would be a hot mess without my beta!

**Sandor**

The air was thick with anticipation as he stood next to Bran near the corner of the courtyard. They were alone and much too close to the large bonfire that was stoked for protection. The heat was making Sandor’s eyes water, or at least that's what he was telling himself. He shifted to the other side of Bran’s wheelchair and scowled slightly when the boy gave him a knowing look and a sad smile. “There are too many of them,” Bran had remarked when he came back to himself.

“We need Drogon and Rhaegal. We just need to hold them a little longer,” Sandor was getting angry. Where in Seven Hells were their Queen and Jon? He stood watch as Bran’s eyes rolled white again. During that time Sandor scanned the courtyard over, there were very few people present at the moment. He wondered where Sansa was, she was probably checking reinforcements and moving through the bannermen to give last-minute instructions. Bran gasped and Sandor snapped his head to look at him.

“Jaime has fallen,” Bran informed him, “as have many others.”

“And Brienne?” Sandor held his breath.

“Injured. Devastated,” Bran paused. “This isn’t working. They are overwhelmed.”

“We just need -”

“There is no time, Goodbrother,” Bran leveled a look at Sandor, “leave me, gather some men to go to the ballista. Have it ready, you'll know when to use it.”

Sandor pulled Heartsbane from its sheath and laid it across Bran's legs, “I am not leaving you unprotected.”

“I can’t wield this.”

“It has to stay with you, Sandor motioned to his own dragonglass weapons, “I’ll be alright. Heartsbane will protect you. It knows what to do.” He knew he was talking like a mad man, but the words were true to him. One look at Bran and he knew that he understood also.

As he strode out of the courtyard he blinked the tears out of his eyes, _buggering fire,_ he grumbled.

 

**Brienne**

She was in shock, she knew. Her arms and her ribs throbbed, her head ached behind her red eyes. He's gone. One moment he was next to her fighting and then in the next, he was gone - dragged from his horse as they tried to retreat back to the hill. The sheer number of them was overwhelming. The sight of their gray rotting flesh was terrifying, and the sound of their screeching will stay in her mind for the rest of her days. It seemed the harder she and her men attacked, the faster they came. The retreat offered a very small reprieve. She turned to ready the soldiers to regroup and to start again. The once confident group was now over half in number and they looked terrified. They were the first line of defense, they had to slow this crush of wights down even if it killed all of them. She gripped Oathkeeper and was about to call the soldiers forward when she heard a deafening shriek in the sky. She looked up and felt her blood turning cold, it was a dragon but instead of Queen Daenerys and Jon, this one was being ridden by the Night King. She braced herself, waiting for the blast she remembered Bran mention when talking to the group some time ago. When the end didn't come and she felt the rush of air over her, she opened her eyes and stared in shock as the undead dragon hovered above the wights it supposedly commanded and let out a stream of blue fire. The blast blew apart wights that were directly hit and others were petrified, frozen to the ground. Brienne didn't stop to think why this was happening, all she knew was that they had an opportunity before them. She screamed and charged forward toward the now motionless army of the dead. Her horse galloped through the wights, shattered them like glass, and even more burst apart with each swing of her sword. The Northmen battle line plowed through the wights, mowing them down like brittle reeds. Viserion suddenly flew off towards Winterfell. The Northern army continued to smash through the frozen wights. With the threat of the undead advancement gone, it was almost like a game to everyone, as swords and blades slashed their way through glittering bone and viscera. Brienne's heart ached again,  _ if only it were a few moments sooner.  _

 

**Arya**

As she sat atop her horse at the gates of Winter Town alongside Gendry, Arya stared at the undead dragon raining blue fire on the wights in the distance. She was dumbfounded for a moment until elation started coursing through her veins. “Viserion turned! Let's go finish what he started,” she screamed and as she led the charge. As they surged forward, she noticed the flying wight dragon sail overhead toward Winterfell. She was sure she saw the Night King still on its back.

“This has to be Bran's doing!” She shouted to Gendry as they rode.

“I hope he knows what he is doing!”

_ So so I,  _ she thought as she looked up at the sky.

Once they crested the rise, she saw the vanguard pulverizing the unmoving wights. She could hear the whoops of the riders below and spurred her steed ahead to join them. Soon she could hear the screeches of Drogon and Rhaegal in the distance.  _ Won't they be surprised?  _

 

**Sam**

_ I shouldn't be up here,  _ Sam repeated to himself over and over as he ran across the battlements. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the rotting body of Viserion bearing down on the castle. Fear gripped him and he was about to drop down to the ground when he noticed the dragon stopped and hovered; the shredded wings outstretched and its breast was bared. 

_ What in seven hells?  _ “Bran,” he smiled, talking to no one in particular. Suddenly he heard a loud thunk and a whoosh as a large dragonglass spear shot through the sky. Sam stared as the shard made a direct hit to Viserion’s chest and the dragon blew apart sending its rider towards the ground.  _ One danger eliminated, but now the Night King was here _ .

“Bran!!,” Sam screamed he turned to run to the courtyard.


	33. In the Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to follow, but this is it.  
> Huge thanks to my beta...you are awesome.  
> And HUGE thanks to those that are still reading. 😘😘😘 It means A LOT.

**Sansa**

Sansa was standing on the battlements when she heard Sam cry out Bran's name and saw him running to the stairs from the other side. She arched an eyebrow, puzzled for a moment and looked back out. In the distance, she saw dragon fire and was relieved to know that reinforcement arrived. She prayed for the safety of her family and her friends as she scanned the area where the dead dragon was blown from the sky. She smiled and knew Sandor did that, it was as though she could feel his power in the air. Her fierce and protective Hound. At that thought, she felt an energy in her belly. _This babe is too small for me to feel - but yet, he is active to the point of making me feel several moons ahead._ A warmth spread through her veins and she hugged her arms around her middle, _I can’t wait for you to meet him._ She was snapped out of her warm thoughts when she suddenly realized why Sam was concerned. She gathered her skirts and quickly made for the stairs.

 

**Sandor**

He took a few moments to celebrate with some of the men at the ballista. He wiped the blood from his cheek from where the loading arm kicked back and grazed him. _What’s another scar?_ he chuckled to himself. It was as if the spear was guided to the perfect spot to destroy that creature. Despite  seeing the Night King fall, he knew danger still loomed. _Even a long fall could not kill that fucker_ , he growled.

He turned to the men, “arm yourselves with your dragonglass weapons, we need to find and kill him.” They all nodded and they made their way to the area where they saw him fall. Suddenly he heard Bran, calling him weakly. He turned to see nothing and continued  to follow the men when it dawned on him that Bran was calling to him within his head. He shouted to the men, “keep looking, sound the horn the moment you see him.” He then turned and ran to the courtyard, his goodbrother needed him.

When he got to the entrance, he saw Bran slumped in his chair. Heartsbane was on his lap, the blade looked to take on a glow from the massive bonfire that he was seemingly inches away from. Sandor paused, leaning against the corner wall to take a breath and settle his nerves. _Save your Goodbrother._ He turned the corner and was horrified to see that the Night King was striding without hesitation to Bran from the other corner. Sandor started to run, “get away from him!”, it was at that moment he saw Sansa scrambling down the stairs to the courtyard herself. He pumped his legs harder as he drew his largest dragonglass dagger. He had to get there before her, there was no telling what that monster could to her or their child. Once he was close enough, he launched himself at the Night King and buried the blade into its chest as they both flew into the fire.

 

**Sansa**

As she was running down the stairs she saw Bran, motionless in his chair and moments later she saw the Night King moving purposefully  toward him. She was about to scream when she heard Sandor bellow a warning and saw him break into a run. She did not slow her feet as they hit the packed dirt. She was about to reach Bran when Sandor leapt and stabbed the Night King and they both disappeared in the bonfire. “Noooooooo!!!!” she screamed. There was a burst of fire and she saw only one form, Sandor. He was engulfed in flames and fell to the ground. A strength overpowered her and her hand grasped the hilt of Heartsbane. She lifted it with ease and stumbled toward her husband, she had barely noticed that the sword was now on fire. Sandor’s face was twisted in pain as he burned and with no other thought besides mercy, she put the point of the sword where his heart was. “I love you!” she cried and threw her weight down on the pommel.

 

**Sandor**

He held on until the NIght King disintegrated in his arms. The heat was unbearable, a searing pain shot through him and he shut his eyes from the flames. He heard a dying scream and realized it was him as he tried to jerk away to the cool air. Relief didn’t come when he hit the ground and he prayed for death. That's when he heard her cry out. His final thought was of how the red and orange of her hair so perfectly matched that of the fire.

And his world went black.

 


	34. Epilogue

_ 6 Months Later _

**Arya**

She sat next to Sansa and watched her cradle her newborn nephew, Brandor. He had a shock of black hair and dark eyes that seemed to look right through her. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. She missed Sandor and she missed Bran. She thought back to the moment she galloped through the gates of Winterfell. The wails from her sister piercing the night sky. Sandor's body with a glowing sword still embedded in his chest. Sam was crouched next to Bran, encouraging him to drink and patting his cheeks. 

The world stopped spinning for a moment when Bran looked at Sansa and pointed to her. “You carry the prince that will bring the dawn.”

“Azor Ahai,” Sam whispered.

Sandor was laid to rest in the crypts and Sansa could barely function. Gilly told her she needed to be strong for her child. “Sandor's child,” she gently reminded her.

Jon and Daenerys took an army to King's Landing to defeat Cersei. They were horrified that she had planned on using wildfire to decimate the whole city and blame the dragons should they attack. Once Cersei  realized there would be no dragon fire to trigger the explosions she tried to start the chain reaction herself. She only succeeded in setting herself and The Mountain on fire in a catacombs of the Red Keep. 

Bran grew weaker every day. As the family gathered in his chamber, he declared, “Don't forget I am the Three-eyed Raven, it’s time.” There were tears and Bran only replied, “I'll always be here.” He told Sam to take him to the Weirwood tree that night and leave him. The next morning, the wheelchair was empty. Arya did notice the face on the tree held a familiar, serene smile. 

Arya watched as ravens came from the Citadel to declare the miracle of Spring. She watched as Sam wed Gilly and the small bump that formed a few moons later. She watched also as Brienne tearfully revealed that she was with child. Sansa declared that the North would be her family.

 

_ One Year Later _

**Sam**

Spring was well on its way. Gilly was due in a few weeks and Brienne was healthy with child also. A few months after the dead were defeated, Tormund appeared from Eastwatch. Hearing news of The Hound saddened him greatly. He also took it upon himself to make sure Brienne would want for nothing. Her eyerolls of annoyance stopped and she finally allowed him to eat meals next to her. A raven came from Kings Landing proclaiming a princess was born of Jon and Daenerys. 

Brandor was a joy. Large for his age, he was inquisitive and loved to be held. Sam would sit with him at the base of the Weirwood tree and tell him tales of his father and of his uncle. Sam was not sure the infant fully understood, but part of him thought he did. After the lands were restored, Arya and Gendry boarded a ship and sailed west from Westeros with a small fleet of explorers. Sansa tried to give her lands, but she was met with “it's not me.”

Daenerys truly broke the wheel and with Jon leading by her side , the seven kingdoms were now seven independent realms united in an alliance. The Council of the Seven elected Daenerys to lead and together she and the other kings and queens of the realms worked together for continued harmony.

  
  


_ Five Years Later _

**Sansa**

Brandor was a beautiful child. He had large, expressive eyes that showed every emotion that flitted through his head. His hair was to his shoulders and fell in gentle black waves, Sansa had to tie it back with a leather tie so he could see. He was tall for his age and strong too. He played endlessly with baby Jeyenne whenever Brienne and time allowed him.

He also became devoted to Gilly's baby when he was born, spending hours with him and Gilly when Sansa was holding court. She still remembered when Sam asked permission to name him Sandor. Her husband may have rolled his eyes at that, claiming everyone had gone soft. But she also knew that he would have been honored. 

Every day she went to the crypts after spending time at the Weirwood tree. She sat at the base of Sandor's statue and told him of her day and of their son. “He's just like you, soon everyone will see the man you truly were.” She would end her time with a kiss on a stone cheek and a promise that one day they would be together again. 

 

_ 30 Years Later _

**Sam**

Sam rubbed his tired eyes and smiled.  _ Finally, it's done,  _ he pulled his glasses from his grayed hair and put them on with gnarled fingers. _ “ _ The History of the Allied Kingdoms of Westeros’ chronicled the time of Robert's Rebellion to the AKW Council leadership of the newly combined house of Brandor and Rhyanna Stargaryen. He looked at the title and frowned. Above it, he wrote in bold letters, “A Song of Ice and Fire.”  _ That's better. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone that read, commented, recommended, and helped keep me on track to get this finished.
> 
> Thanks again to my beta, @mrsdanafox


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